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CIHM/ICMH 
Microfiche 


CIHM/ICIVIH 
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microfiches. 


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D 


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D 


D 
D 


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I      I    Covers  damaged/ 


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D 
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D 
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[3 


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SOX 

y 

12X 


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28X 


32X 


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taire 


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d'images  ndcessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  mdthode. 


by  errata 
ned  to 

tent 

une  pelure, 

faqon  d 


1 

2 

3 

32X 


1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

TE 


OTorkg  of  3ai)n  ©alt 


THE    ENTAIL 


on 


THE    LAIRDS    OF    GRIPPY 


I. 


JOHN  QALT'S  NOVELS. 

won  by  b.  R.  Crockett.     The  text  rAvi.o^ 

SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE.    2  vols. 

THE     PROVOST    AND    THE    lAsT     OP    THE 
I-AIRDS.    2vol».  ™^ 

THE  ENTAIL.     2  vols. 


ROBERTS  BROTHERS.  Boston. 


of  J 


T  11 1 


Walter  signed  tlic  died. 


■-S 


'/•  ,T(>hn  Gall. 


Edited  hrP-^iorrar  Meldruvi 


TiIE    EjS 


THE    LAIRDS    O  F    (>-t£ii 


WlXn  IN TRODrCTION 

By    S.    U.    CROCKETT 


ILLVSTRATlOyS  BY  JOHN  \7ALLACE 


VOLUME  I 


BOSTON 

ROBERTS    BROTHERS 

1 896 


TVorks  of  Jc 


THE 


/O 


Works  of  John  Gait. 


Edited  bt/  ^Storrar  Meldrum 


-M 


THE   EN^ 


OR 


THE    LAIRDS    OF 


"WITH  INTRODUCTION 

By    S.    R.    CROCKETT 


ILLUSTRATIONS  BT  JOHN  WALLACE 


VOLUME  I 


BOSTON 
ROBERTS    BROTHERS 

1896 


ILLUJ 


"  Walter 
"  Falling 

HANE 


ILLUSTRATIONS    TO    VOLUME    I 


"  Walter  signed  the  deed  "     .        .  Frontispiece 


"Falling  on  his  knees,  clasped  his 

HANDS  together"       .         .    toface  page  21S 


u 


INTRODUCTION 


IN 


The  most 

my   acquaini 
neither  does 
there  is  a  coi 
subjects.      "V 
that  concern 
disputation, 
argument's  s 
I  do  not  ho 
ing  because 
prove   to   h( 
herself  on  b 
And  I  dc 
For  on  the 
partake  of  i 
other  she  ci 
current   wor 
Gait  as  blu 
blonde   expc 


INTRODUCTION 


JLHE  most  entirely  charming  young  lady  of 
my  acquaintance  does  not  like  cream.  But 
neither  does  she  appreciate  John  Gait.  Hence 
there  is  a  controversy  between  us  on  both  these 
subjects.  We  are,  indeed,  both  well  aware 
that  concerning  tastes  there  can  be  no  serious 
disputation.  But  for  all  that  we  dispute  for 
argument's  sake,  and  for  the  love  of  speech. 
I  do  not  hold  my  friend  one  whit  less  charm- 
ing because  of  her  mislikings.  But  I  try  to 
prove  to  her  how  much  delight  she  denies 
herself  on  both  counts. 

And  I  do  not  despair  of  ultimate  victory. 
For  on  the  one  hand  she  can  now  endure  to 
partake  of  the  milk  of  commerce,  and  on  the 
other  she  can  read  with  appreciation  certain 
current  works  of  fiction,  which  are  to  John 
Gait  as  blue  skimmed  milk  is  to  the  intact 
blonde   expanse   which   spreads    from    side   to 


X  INTRODUCTION 

side   of  the  milk   bvne  after  a  niirht  on   the 
cool  dairy  floor. 

Which  thing  is  more  than  a  parable.  For, 
as  all  men  know,  there  be  those  who  vaunt 
their  inability  to  i*ead  John  Gait  as  if  it  were 
a  moral  virtue — or  perhaps,  more  exactly,  as 
if  it  were  a  peculiarly  atti  active  and  picturesque 
crime,  like  Mr  Bret  Harte's  highway  robbery, 
or  barratry  as  described  by  Mr  Stevenson.  But 
I  would  plead  with  such  to  be  humble.  They 
may  not  be  able  to  help  their  infirmity.  They 
may  be  unable  to  appreciate  "  Sweet  William 
with  his  homely  cottage  smell,*"  but  after  ail 
it  is  somewhat  short-sighted  to  pique  oneself 
upon  the  failing.  It  is,  indeed,  permissible 
to  say — 

"This  is  no  my  ain  lassie, 
Fair  though  the  lassie  be," 

but  even  so  much  should  be  said  regretfully 
and  not  aggressively.  For  whoever  may  like 
or  mislike,  praise  or  dispraise,  there  is  really 
no  more  question  concerning  the  charm  of 
John  Gait,  than  there  is  as  to  the  reality  of 
the  pleasure  which  generations  of  humble  folk 
have  derived  from  the  wallflower,  the  stocks, 


!  -I 


the  Londod 

cottage    gai 

honestly    t 

more  than 

and    spottej 

After  all, 

which  ther< 

envy  Judal 

Ephraim. 

But  why 

when  my  ti 

in  some  re 

works  of  J 

that    in 

Grippyr  t 

his   peculis 

parent   thj 

Scottish  b 

excuse  of  i 

done,  the 

chronicle, 

roads  whi 

ance.     I 

colour  of 

change — 


(( 


>n   the    f 


I 


INTRODUCTION  xi 

the  I^ondon  pride,  the  Sweet  AVilliam  of  their 
cottage  gardens.  Nor  is  it  really  criniiiial 
honestly  to  protest  one's  love  for  these, 
more  than  for  all  the  strange  wizard  shapes 
and  sj)otted  mimicries  of  the  orchid  house. 
After  all,  the  earth  is  a  wide  glad  place,  in 
which  there  is  no  need  that  Ephraini  should 
envy  Judah,  nor  yet  that  Judah  should  vex 
Ephraim. 

But  why  (it  is  queried)  have  I  begun  thus, 
when  my  task  is  to  introduce  the  longest,  and 
in  some  respects  the  most  important,  of  the 
works  of  John  Gait  ?  Perhaps  because  I  feel 
that  in  "  The  Entail,  or  The  Lairds  of 
Grippy,""  the  faults  of  Gait,  his  limitations, 
his  peculiarities,  are  more  insistent  and  ap- 
parent than  in  any  of  his  other  important 
Scottish  books.  Yet  this  is  by  no  means  the 
excuse  of  accusation.  For  when  all  is  said  and 
done,  the  "  Lairds  of  Grippy '"  is  a  delightful 
chronicle,  as  wayward  and  wimplesome  as  the 
roads  which  led  towards  that  kindly  inherit- 

* 

ance.  I  love  to  journey  to  Grippy  when  "the 
colour  of  the  trees  and  hedges  is  beginning  to 
change — while  here  and  there  a  tuft  of  yellow 


xu 


INTRODUCTION 


leaves,    and    occasionally    the    hemes    of    the 
mountain  -  ash    hke    clusters    of    fiery    eiiihers 
with  the  sheaves  of  corn  and  reapers   in   the 
neighhouring  fields,  show  that  sunnner  is  en- 
tirely past  and  the  liarvest  time  hefnin  " 

That  is  just  how  it  is  with  "The  Lairds  of 

Grippy/'    It  is  the  note-book  of  a  man  who  has 

begun  to  descend  the  autunmal  slope  of  life. 

The  lovemaking  is  that  of  one   who  dons  no 

more  the  "coortin'  coat/'  whose   own   wooing 

days  are  already  far  behind  him,  but  yet  one 

who,  for  all  that,  looks  not  unkindly  nor  wholly 

without  sympathy  upon  the  wooing  of  others. 

In  "  The  Entail ''  it  is  plain  that  the  author^s 

point  of  view  as   to  matrimony,   in    spite   of 

sundry    flourishes    which    mislead    nobody,    is 

bounded    by   the    accomplishment    of  a   snu 

down-sitting  and  the  attainment  of  a  shrewd 

competence.       A    crisp   and    nippy   air    blows 

blusterously  through  the  book.     But  in  spite 

of   this,    the    kindly    Scottish    heart    of   Gait, 

warm  like  Ayrshire  sunshine,  keeps  his  reader 

content  to  do   without  very   much    sentiment 

of  the  ordinary  type. 

I  wish,  however,  Gait  had  kept  to  his  first 


rr 


! 


thoughc  and 
tions  simply 
of  trying  to 
a  string  whei 
sketches.     H 
the  fine  "  An 
l)y    the    nan 
Teinds.^^     Bi 
and  "  Destinii 
tricities,''  lea 
formations  " 
with  which  tl 
the  mistaken 
and  overlaid 
.     For   the  t 
really  and  c( 
is  not  a  nove 
both  a  good 
to  keep  trac 
marriages  of 
Grippy  and  1 
of    Gait    th. 
continually 
their  unnum 
(on  which,  ii 


of    the 

libbers, 

ill   the 

is  en- 

J'cls  of 
lo  has 
f  life, 
ns  no 
ooincr 

t  one 
hoUj 
thers. 
thor's 
te   of 

}'»    is 

snuir 

rewcl 

•lows 

>pite 

rait, 

icier 

lent 

irst 


■I 


i 


I 


INTRODUCTION  xiii 

thoughc  and  called  t!:is  history  of  three  genera- 
tions simply  "  The  Lairds  of  Grippy,""  instead 
of  trying  to  find,  in  the  idea  of  the  "  Entail,'*'' 
a  string  whereon  to  hang  the  whole  series  of 
sketches.  He  might  as  well  have  denominated 
the  fine  "Annals  of  the  Parish  of  Dalmailing'*'* 
by  the  name  of  "The  Glebe"  or  "The 
Teinds.''''  But  it  was  a  time  of  "  Marriages " 
and  "  Destinies,"  of  "  Precautions  "  and  "  Eccen- 
tricities," leading  in  due  time  to  the  "Trans- 
formations'" and  other  hideous  intitulations, 
with  which  the  perverted  taste  of  the  public  or 
the  mistaken  zeal  of  publishers  have  deformed 
and  overlaid  the  genius  of  story-tellers. 

For  the  title  "The  Lairds  of  Grippy"  is 
really  and  completely  descriptive.  The  book 
is  not  a  novel  of  the  unities,  though  it  requires 
both  a  good  memory  and  a  genealogical  mind' 
to  keep  track  of  all  the  branches  and  inter- 
marriages of  the  members  of  the  families  of 
Grippy  and  Kittlestonheugh.  But  to  the  lover 
of  Gait  their  plots  and  counterplots,  their 
continually  recurring  "  guid-gangin''  pleas,'" 
their  unnumbered  quarrels  and  reconciliations 
(on  which,  it  is  curious  to  recall,  Gait  specially 


XIV 


INTRODUCTION 

prided  himself  as  showing  the  "giant  reach 
of  his  imagination''),  do  not  really  matter  to 
the  comfortably  minded  reader  so  much  as  or" 
single  kailrunt  out  of  the  gardens  of  Grippy. 

The  story,  such  as  it  is,  concerns  the  liti- 
gious annals  of  a  hard-gi*ained  generation. 
Ilieir  wars  and  stratagems  bring  out  in  all 
of  them  a  ce^'tain  family  mother-wit  and  close- 
fisted  shrewdness.  But  with  a  single  exception 
they  are  all  led  by  the  nose  by  the  gi'eed  of 
possession  and  by  the  hunger  for  wider  march- 
dykes.  The  most  real  pleasure  in  the  reading  of 
the  "  Entail  *"  consists  (at  least  for  me)  in  watch- 
ing the  development  of  the  character  of  the 
admirable  Leddy  Grippy,  and  the  gradual 
gathering  of  the  interest  about  her,  as  the 
story  drifts  on  from  the  misfortunes  of  one 
generation  to  those  of  another.  Perhaps,  as  in 
reading  the  "Faery  Queen,*"  the  wisest  plan 
is  wholly  to  abandon  oneself  to  the  sensations 
of  the  moment,  and  thus  to  enjoy  the  acquaint- 
ance of  the  many  delightful  characters  who 
enter  every  minute,  as  op  a  stage,  make  their 
bow,  and  retire.  In  this  way  we  are  not  too 
much    concerned    with    the    mazy    ploli    and 


schemes,  the 
which    too   nj 
cumbered, 
in  the  "  Faer 
What,  for 
Cornelius  Lu) 
the  elders   in| 
his  wife  hers( 
tence,  indeed, 
ceming   mine 
woman,    who 
keep   her   huj 
and  sobriety. 
Mr   Cornel 
reputable  a  I 
tant  day  whe 
be  seen    "ch 
sound  o'   the 
headed  beast 
come  o'  evei 
This  wort 
shaw,  the  fi 
spiritual  agi 
home  "grea 
of  Mr  Wa 

VOL.  I. 


it  reach 
atter  to 
1  as  OP" 
'ippy. 
he  liti- 
eration. 
:  in  all 
rl  close- 
ception 
reed  of 
march- 
ding  of 
watch- 
of  the 
radual 
as  the 
)f  one 
,  as  in 
;  plan 
ations 
laint- 

who 
their 

too 

and 


INTRODUCTION  X7 

schemes,  the  legal  quirks  and  Si^ratagcms,  with 
which  too  many  pages  of  the  "  Entail ''  are 
cuiiihered.  As  Ilazlitt  said  of  the  allegory 
ill  the  "  Faery  Queen,"  the  })lot  won't  hite  us. 

What,  for  instance,  can  he  finer  than  iVIr 
Cornelius  Luke,  tailor  in  Glasgow,  and  one  of 
the  elders  in  the  Tron  Kirk  ? — iniless  it  be 
his  wife  herself,  who  csily  speaks  a  single  sen- 
tence, indeed,  but  who  lives  for  ever  in  the  dis- 
cerning mind  as  a  clear-headed  clip-tongued 
woman,  who  has  doubtless  done  nuich  to 
keep  her  husband  in  the  paths  of  wisdom 
and  sobriety. 

Mr  Cornelius,  as  becomes  an  elder  of  so 
reputable  a  kirk,  has  a  vision  of  the  not  dis- 
tant day  when  the  ministers  of  Glasgow  will 
he  seen  "chambering  and  wantoning  to  the 
sound  o"*  the  kist  o"*  whistles,  wi**  the  seven- 
headed  beast  routing  its  choruses  to  the  ower- 
come  o'  every  spring.'" 

This  worthy  elder  finds  that  Mr  Walkin- 
shaw,  the  fii*st  Laird  of  Gnppy,  is  in  strict 
spiritual  agreement  with  him.  So  he  returns 
home  "  greatly  edified  by  the  godly  salutations 
of  Mr   Walkinshaw's   spirit — wherein,"  as  he 


I 


VOL.  I. 


b 


xvi  INTRODUCTION 

says,  "there  is  a  kythiiiijj  of  fruit  meet  for 
repentance ;  a  foretaste  of  thin*:^  that  })er- 
tain  not  to  this  Hfe ;  a  receiviii<j^  of  the  arks 
of  rigliteo  ■  • '»  and  peace  which  ])asseth  all 
undei'standing  and  enchu'eth  for  evermore."'"' 

This  was  the  veiy  accent  of  the  advanced 
*' jirofessor "'"'  of  the  time,  thoii<i,"h  perhaps  it 
is  a  Httle  more  reminiscent  of  (h)iice  David 
Deans,  the  Cameronian  elder,  than  of  one  of 
the  conforma])le  stoups  of  the  Erastian  Tron 
Kirk  of  (jkisgow. 

But  if  Cornelius  has  a  "thocht  owcr  muckle 
unction  "'  for  his  trade,  liis  wife  keeps  all  things 
right  with  her  discerament  and  common-sense. 

"  Fm  blythe  to  hear  it,*'"'  is  the  worthy 
woman"'s  answer  to  her  husband's  eulogy  of  j\Ir 
Walkinshaw"'s  godliness,  "  for  he"'s  an  evcn-doon 
Nabal  —  a  perfect  penurc  j)ig  —  that  I  ne''er 
could  abide,  ever  since  he  wouldna  lend  puir 
auld  Mrs  Gorbals,  the  provost"'s  widow  (that, 
they  say,  set  him  up  in  the  world),  the  sma"* 
soom  o"*  five  pounds  to  help  her  wi"'  the  outfit 
o"*  her  oe,  when  he  was  gaun  to  Virginia,  a 
clerk  to  Bailie  Cross."" 

Leaving  good    Mistress  Cornelius,  we    turn 


the  ])age,  a| 
Kilfuddy,  tl 
who    ''reddl 
batable    (jui 
Diana  of  thl 
most  sweet  i\ 
life,  in  spite' 
from  his  no: 
dignity  of 
cocked  hat. 
P    the  kind-ht 
his  hesitati" 
sti-uggles  be 
I     a  natural  ii 
reaching  la^ 
also,  is  a  p£ 
his  wee  Be 
and  (under 
I         Above  a 
arid  waste 
found  in  i 

Grippyr 
Leddy,  wl 
mill-happc 
other.    He 


meet 

for 

h.'it   j 

)cr- 

the  arJc'sp 

sseth 

a, 

I  lore, 
idvanced 
t'haf)s  it 
3  David 
one  of 
LH  Troii 

nuickle 
1  tliinfTs 

-sense, 
worthy 

of  Mv 
n-doon 
[  ne''er 
d  puir 

(that, 
e  snia' 

outfit 
nia,  a 

turn 


INTRODUCTION  xvii 

the  }mf:je,  and  innncdiately  we  come  upon  Mr 
Kilfu(hly,  tliat  athnirable  and  ruhicund  clerie 
who  "redd  uj)"  so  excellently  the  stifK  de- 
batable questions  conceniin*]^  the  temple  of 
Diana  of  the  K})hesians,  but  who  was  perhaps 
most  sweet  and  delectable  on  the  vanities  of  this 
life,  in  spite  of  the  obvious  beacon-light  sliining 
from  his  nose,  and  the  full-fledged  comfortable 
dignity  of  his  white-powdered  wig  and  large 
cocked  hat.  Then  a  Httle  further  on  we  liave 
the  kind-hearted  lawyer,  j\Ir  Keelevin,  with 
his  hesitations  and  thi])itations,  liis  frecjuent 
stiniggles  between  the  dictates  of  his  heart  and 
a  natural  interest  in  a  good  responsible  far^ 
reaching  law-plea.  Walter,  the  poor  natural, 
also,  is  a  pathetic  figure,  with  his  affect,  /n  for 
his  wee  Betty  Bodle,  his  dourness,  obstinacy, 
and  (under  all)  his  native  kindliness. 

Above  all,  and  worthy  to  redeem  far  more 
arid  wastes  of  inconsequence  than  are  to  be 
found  in  all  the  records  of  "The  Lairds  of 
Grippy,*''*  is  the  ever  Irjsh  and  admirable 
Leddy,  whose  tongue  goes  like  a  well-oiled 
mill-happer  from  one  end  of  the  book  to  the 
other.    Hers  is  tiie  one  comforting  and  redeem- 


xviii 


INTRODUCTION 


in-   fi<r„,.e   in    that   sonic-what   imkindly    latter 
part  of    the  hook   uliicli   tells  of  the   exploits 
of  Xuhal   the  second,  and  of  the  loveniakin- 
of  the  very  niatter-of-tUet  wooers  uho  ^-divuv 
theo-ither"    for    the    i)urpose    of    keeping    the 
I)r()perty   in    the  family.      There   are,    indeed, 
few  scenes   in   Scottish   romance   more   (juietlv 
and  truly  liumorous   than   that   in  wliicli    the 
Leddy  extorts  lier  dues  for  the  board  and  lodn-- 
in^'   of   the   youiio.   couple,  her  gTandchildren, 
wliom    she    lias    first    inordinately   i)etted    and 
then  as   implacably  (juarrelled  with. 

"For  ye  maun  ken,  AVilly  Keckle,"  she  her- 
self  says,   describin*,^    the   scene,    "that   I   hae 
overcon.e    i)rincipalities    and    powers    in    this 
controvei-sy.      Wha   ever   heard    o'   thousands 
o'  pounds   gotten  for  sax  weeks^   bed,   board, 
and  washin^  like  mine  ?     But  it  was  a  righteous 
judgment    on    tliat    Nabal,    Milrookit,  wha    I 
shall  never  speak  to  in  this  worP  mair— nor 
in  the  next  either,   I  doot,  unless   he    mends 
his  manners.'' 

Well  might  Lord  Byron  read  "The  Lairds 
of  Grippy "  tlii'ice  over  for  her  sake,  and  the 
Karl   of    Elessington    (that   politest   of    men) 


I 


declare  that 
of  the  I^(l( 
list  somewhc 

I  do  not 
is,  in  sti'uctu 
best  books, 
in  all  the  ek 
so  featly  an 
seems  the  n 
world.     TIr 
most  charac 
well  deserve> 
pictures  of  <\ 
and  for  its 
dialogue. 

I  am  not 
to  grief  or 
much  from 
he  will  expe 
tent  with  t\ 
when  he  coi 
and  the  enc 
woman  the 
the  too  prac 
a  yird  taid 


latter 
xj)l()its 
nakinn- 
"draw 
jT    the 
ndcod, 
luietly 
h    the 
lod^'- 
Idren, 
I    and 

i  lier- 
hae 
this 

ands 

oard, 

;eous 

la    I 

-nor 

ends 

irds 

the 

len) 


INTRODUCTION  xix 

(lechire  that  he  was  (]uite  sure  that  tlie  name 
of  the  Ix'ddy  (Jrippy  must  be  on  his  visiting 
list  somewhere,  if  lie  could  only  find  it. 

I  do  not  say  that  "The  Lairds  of  (iri})py" 
is,  in  sti'ucture  and  sequence,  one  of  Oalfs  very 
best  books.  Nevertheless  it  is  rich  throughout 
in  all  the  elements  of  character-sketching,  done 
so  featly  and  delicately  that  the  achievement 
seems  the  most  easy  and  natural  thing  in  the 
world.  The  book  is  throughout  one  of  his 
most  characteristic  and  copious,  and  certiiinly 
well  deserves  to  be  carefully  read,  both  for  its 
pictures  of  citizen  life  during  the  last  century, 
and  for  its  abounding  garniture  of  humorous 
dialogue. 

I  am  not  afraid  that  any  one  will  come 
to  grief  or  disappointment  by  expecting  too 
much  from  this  book  of  John  Galfs,  if  only 
he  will  expect  the  right  qualities,  and  be  con- 
tent with  them  when  he  finds  them.  So  that, 
when  he  comes  to  the  end  of  the  last  volume, 
and  the  end  too  of  tlmt  worthy  and  capable 
woman  the  Leddy  Grippy,  he  will  not,  with 
the  too  practical  Beenie,  stand  '■'simpering  like 
a  yird  taid ""  for  a  silver  teapot  whji^b  cannot 


XX  INTRODUCTION 

be  his,  but  rather  very  sympathetically  drop 
a  tear  for  a  friend  departed  not  unworthily  to 
her  rest — as  the  well-conducted  papers  of  the 
period  with  some  originality  remarked,  "to 
the  great  regret  of  all  surviving  friends." 

S.  R.  Crockett. 


ly  drop 
•thiJj  to 
5  of  the 


^d,   "to 

s. 


KETT. 


THE    ENTAIL 


TE 


Claud  w 

viving  male 
stonheugh. 
the  line,  del 
allured  so  ma: 
their  fortune 
his  only  son, 
ships  fitted  c 
adventure  in 
the  whole  val 
our  intention 
very  circumsi 
hiird's  family 
dient  brevity 
childhood.  I 
his  father  sa 
broken  hearl 
with  many  o 
disease    and 

VOL.  I. 


THE    ENTAIL 


CHAPTEK    I 

Claud  WALKINSHAW  was  the  sole  sur- 
viving male  heir  of  the  Walkinshaws  of  Kittle- 
stonheugh.  His  grandfather,  the  last  laird  of 
the  line,  deluded  by  the  golden  virions  that 
allured  so  many  of  the  Scottish  ;^rentry  to  embark 
their  fortunes  in  the  Darien  Expedition,  sent 
his  only  son,  the  father  of  Claud,  in  one  of  the 
ships  fitted  out  at  Cartsdyke,  and  with  him  an 
adventure  in  which  he  had  staked  more  than 
the  whole  value  of  his  estate.  But,  as  it  is  not 
our  intention  to  fatigue  the  reader  with  any 
very  circumstantial  account  of  the  state  of  the 
laird's  family,  we  shall  pass  over  with  all  expe- 
dient brevity  the  domestic  history  of  (laud's 
childhood.  He  was  scarcely  a  year  old  when 
his  father  sailed  ;  and  his  mother  died  (;f  a 
broken  heart,  on  heann:>-  that  her  liusband, 
with  many  of  his  companions,  had  perished  of 
disease    and   famine    among   the   swamps  of  the 

VOL.  I.  A 


2 


THE  ENTAIL 


Mosquito  shore.  The  Kittlestonheugh  estate 
was  soon  after  sold,  and  the  hiird,  with  Claud, 
retired  into  Glasgow,  where  he  rented  the  upper 
part  of  a  back  house  in  Aird's  Close,  in  the 
Dry  gate.  The  only  servant  whom,  in  this  altered 
state,  he  could  afford  to  retain,  or  rather  the 
only  one  that  he  could  not  get  rid  of,  owing 
to  her  age  and  infirmities,  was  Maudge  Dobbie, 
who  in  her  youth  was  bairnswoman  to  his  son. 
She  had  been  upwards  of  forty  years  in  the 
servitude  of  his  house ;  and  the  situation  she 
had  filled  to  the  father  of  Claud  did  not  tend 
to  diminish  the  kindliness  with  which  she  re- 
garded the  child,  especially  when,  by  the  ruin 
of  her  master,  there  was  none  but  herself  to 
attend  him. 

The  charms  of  Maudge,  even  in  her  vernal 
years,  had  been  confined  to  her  warm  and  affec- 
tionate feelings ;  and  at  this  period  she  was 
twisted  east  and  west,  and  hither  and  yont,  and 
Time,  in  the  shape  of  old  age,  hung  so  embrac- 
ingly  round  her  neck  that  his  weight  had  bent 
her  into  a  hoop.  Yet,  thus  deformed  and  aged, 
she  was  not  without  qualities  that  might  have 
endeared  her  to  a  more  generous  boy.  Her 
father  had  been  schoolmaster  in  the  village  of 
Kittleston ;  and  under  his  tuition,  before  she 
was  sent,  as  the  phrase  then  was,  to  seek  her 
bread  in  the  world,  she  had  acquired  a  few  of 
the  elements  of  learning  beyond  those  which,  in 
that  period,  fell  to  the    common  lot  of  female 


n 


domestics  ;  a 
to  teach    the| 
even    to    sup 
.irithmetic,  p 
cation  table. 
(Toblin  lore  a 
which  had  g 
for  adventure 
ill-fated  expe 
so  congenial 
of  the  son,  \ 
Whittington 
Sir  William 
you  ever  seen 
sensible  than 
;  ditty,  the  Flo) 
■  the  Babes   in 
wearisome  tht 
^       The    solitar 
settled   in   hii 
I  retreat  when 
\  his  appearanc 
;  been  bustling 

t. 

I  from  the  first 
.  the  ruin  of  1 
I  sedentary,  am 
\  and  retired  fr 

s 

\  times  he  sat 

and  without  e 

1   of  his  jrrandsc 

I  the   child,    ai 


THE  ENTAIL 


3 


'I 


domestics  ;  and  she  was  thus  enabled,  not  only 
to  teach  the  orphan  reading  and  writing,  but 
even  to  supply  him  with  some  knowledge  of 
arithmetic,  particularly  addition  and  the  multipli- 
cation table.  She  also  possessed  a  rich  stock  of 
iroblin  lore  and  romantic  stories,  the  recital  of 
which  had  given  the  father  of  Claud  the  taste 
for  adventure  that  induced  him  to  embark  in  the 
ill-fated  expedition.  These,  however,  were  not 
so  congenial  to  the  less  sanguine  temperament 
of  the  son,  who  early  preferred  the  history  of 
Whittington  and  his  Cat  to  the  achievements  of 
Sir  William  Wallace :  Tak  your  auld  cloak  about 
you  ever  seemed  to  him  a  thousand  times  more 
sensible  than  Chevy  Chase.  As  for  that  doleful 
ditty,  the  Flowers  of  the  Forest,  it  was  worse  than 
the  Babes  in  the  Wood,  and  Gil  Morrice  more 
wearisome  than  Death  and  the  Lady. 

The  solitary  old  laird  had  not  been  long 
settled  in  his  sequestered  and  humble  town- 
retreat  when  a  change  becamf  visible  in  both 
his  appearance  and  manners.  Formerly  he  had 
been  bustling,  vigorous,  hearty,  and  social ;  but 
from  the  first  account  of  the  death  of  his  son  and 
the  ruin  of  his  fortune,  he  grew  thoughtful  and 
sedentary,  and  shunned  the  approach  of  strangers 
and  retired  from  the  visits  of  hts  friends.  Some- 
times he  sat  for  whole  days  without  speaking, 
and  without  even  noticing  tlie  kitten-like  gambols 
of  his  grandson  ;  at  others  he  would  fondle  over 
the    child,    and    caress    him    wiLli    more    than    a 


THE  ENTAIL 


grandfather's  affection  ;  ai;ain,  he  would  peevishly 
brush  the  boy  away  as  he  clasped  his  knees, 
and  hurry  out  of  the  house  with  short  and 
agitated  steps.  His  respectable  portliness  disap- 
peared, his  clothes  began  to  hang  loosely  upon 
him,  his  colour  fled,  his  face  withered,  and 
his  legs  wasted  into  meagre  shanks.  Before 
the  end  of  the  first  twelve  months  he  was 
either  unwilling  or  unable  to  move  unassisted 
from  the  old  arm-chair,  in  which  he  sat  from 
morning  to  night,  with  his  grey  head  drooping 
over  his  breast ;  and  one  evening,  when  Maudge 
went  to  assist  him  to  undress,  she  found  he  had 
been  for  some  time  dead. 

After  the  funeral  Maudge  removed  with  the 
penniless  orphan  to  a  garret-room  in  the  Salt- 
market,  where  she  endeavoured  to  earn  for  him 
and  herself  the  humble  aliment  of  meal  and  salt 
by  working  stockings,  her  infirmities  and  figure  I 
having  disqualified  her  from  the  more  profitable  1 
industry  of  the  spinning-wheel.  In  this  condi- 
tion she  remained  for  some  time,  pinched  with 
poverty,  but  still  patient  with  her  lot,  and  pre- 
serving a  neat  and  decent  exterior. 

It  was  only  in  the  calm  of  the  summer  Sabbath 
evenings  that  she  indulged  in  the  luxury  of  a  view 
of  the  country ;  and  her  usual  walk  on  those 
occasions,  with  Claud  in  her  hand,  was  along  the 
brow  of  Whitehill,  which  perhaps  she  preferred 
because  it  afforded  her  a  distant  view  of  the 
scenes  of  her  happier  days  ;  and  while  she  pointed 


out  to  Claud 
she  exhortej 
(Icavour  to 
new  possess( 
tion  with  soi 
grandeur  of 

One  after| 
Provost  Gorl 
ance.       The 
circumstance 
lady  to  choo 
they  had  Ion 
stately,  corp 
terial  conseq 
Mrs  Gorb 
yellow  broca 
flowers,  the 
exuberance 
richness  of 
dress  of  cat, 
blue  satin  w 
in  the   gorj; 
ladies  of  tii 
abler  limnei 
The  appe 
his  dignity; 
garniture  o 
even  had  h 
dignity,  tb 
determining 
with  at  lei 


peevishly 
is  knees, 
liort  and 
3SS  disap- 
ely  upon 
red,  and 
Before 

he  was 
nassibted 
»at  from 
irooping 
Maudge 

he  had 

i^ith  the 
le  Salt- 
for  him 
ind  salt 
i  figure 
•ofitable 
3  condi- 
id  with 
id  pre- 

•abbath 
'  a  view 
I  those 
ng  the 
^ferred 
yf  the 
ointed 


THE  ENTAIL  5 

out  to  Claud  tne  hills  and  lands  of  his  forefathers, 
she  exhorted  him  to  make  it  his  constant  en- 
deavour to  redeem  them,  if  possible,  from  their 
new  possessors,  regularly  concluding  her  admoni- 
tion with  some  sketch  or  portrait  of  the  hereditary 
grandeur  of  his  ancestors. 

One  afternoon,  while  she  was  thus  engaged. 
Provost  Gorbals  and  his  wife  made  their  appear- 
ance. The  provost  was  a  man  in  flourishing 
circumstances,  and  he  was  then  walking  with  his 
lady  to  choose  a  site  for  a  country-house  which 
they  had  long  talked  of  building.  They  were  a 
stately,  corpulent  couple,  well  befitting  the  magis- 
terial consequence  of  the  husband. 

Mrs  Gorbals  was  arrayed  in  a  stiff  and  costly 
yellow  brocade,  magnificently  embroidered  with 
flowers,  the  least  of  which  was  peony ;  but  the 
exuberance  of  her  ruflle  cufls  and  flounces,  the 
richness  of  her  lace  apron,  with  the  vast  head- 
dress of  catgut  and  millinery,  together  with  her 
blue  satin  mantle,  trimmed  with  ermine,  are  items 
in  the  gorgeous  paraphernalia  of  the  Glasgow 
ladies  of  tiiat  time  to  which  the  pencil  of  some 
abler  limner  can  alone  do  justice. 

The  appearance  of  the  provost  himself  became 
his  dignity,  and  corresponded  with  the  affluent 
garniture  of  his  lady :  it  was  indeed  such  that, 
even  had  he  not  worn  the  golden  chains  of  his 
dignity,  there  would  have  been  no  difficulty  in 
determining  him  to  be  some  personage  dressed 
with  at  least  a  little  brief  authority.     Over  the 


6 


THE  ENTAIL 


magisterial  vestmento  of  black  velvet  lie  wore  a 
new  scarlet  cloak,  although  tlie  day  had  been  one 
of  the  sultriest  in  July  ;  and,  with  a  lofty,  conse- 
quential air  and  an  ample  dis])lay  of  the  cor- 
poreal atMjuisition  whch  he  had  made  at  his  own 
and  other  well-furnished  tables,  he  moved  along, 
swinging  at  every  step  his  tall  golden-headed 
cane  with  the  solemnity  of  a  mandarin. 

Claud  was  filled  with  wonder  and  awe  at  the 
sight  of  such  splendid  examples  of  Glasgow  pomp 
and  prosperity  ;  but  Maudge  speedily  rebuked  his 
juvenile  admiration. 

"  They're  no  worth  the  looking  at,"  said  she ; 
"  had  ye  but  seen  the  last  Leddy  Kittlestonheugh, 
your  ain  muckle-respeckit  grandmother,  and  her 
twa  sisters,  in  their  hench-hoops,  with  their  fans 
in  their  ban's  (the  three  in  a  row  would  hae 
soopit  the  whole  breadth  o'  the  Trongate),  ye 
would  hae  seen  something.  They  were  nane  o' 
your  new-made  leddies,  but  come  o'  a  pedigree. 
Foul  would  hae  been  the  gait  and  drooking^ 
the  shower  that  would  hae  gart  them  jook  their 
heads  ^  intil  the  door  o'  ony  sic  thing  as  a  Glasgow 
bailie.  Na,  Claudie,  my  lamb  :  thou  maun  lift  thy 
een  aboon  the  trash  o'  the  town,  and  aye  keep 
mind  that  the  hills  are  standing  yet  that  might 
hae  been  thy  ain ;  and  so  may  they  yet  be,  an 
thou    can   but   master    the    pride    o'    back   and 

^  Drooking.     Drenching. 

"  Gart  tucnijnok  their  heads.     Caused  them  to  jook  or  bend 
their  heads.     Scotch  lintels  were  low. 


belly,  and  s| 
the  bravery 
I   yon  Provost' 
■    pride's  yon' cj 
y    tlie  morn  t( 
:    n'  gane  to  ]| 
the  divors  ^ 
ruptcy." 


:A 


THE  ENTAIL  7 

belly,  and  seek  for  something  mair  solid  than 
the  bravery  o'  sic  a  Solomon  in  all  his  glory  as 
von  Provost  Gorbals.  Hech,  sirs,  what  a  kyteful  o' 
pride's  yon'er  !  And  yet  I  would  be  nane  surprised 
the  morn  to  hear  that  the  Nebuchadnezzar  was 
a'  gane  to  pigs  and  whistles,  and  driven  out  w^i' 
the  divors  ^  bill  to  the  barren  pastures  of  bank- 
ruptcy." 

1  Divors.    Bankrupt. 


CHAPTER    II 

-tLFTER  taking  a  stroll  round  the  brow  of  the 
hill,  Provost  Gorbals  and  his  lady  approached  the 
spot  where  Maudge  and  Claud  were  sitting.  As 
they  drew  near,  the  old  woman  rose,  for  she  re- 
cognised in  Mrs  Gorbals  one  of  the  former  visitors 
at  Kittlestonheugh.  The  figure  of  Maudge  her- 
self was  so  remarkable  that,  seen  once,  it  was 
seldom  forgotten,  and  the  worthy  lady,  almost 
at  the  same  instant,  said  to  the  provost — 

"  Eh  !  Megsty,  gudeman,  if  I  dinna  think  yon's 
auld  Kittlestonheugh's  crookit  bairnswoman.  I 
won'er  what's  come  o'  the  laird,  poor  bodie,  sin' 
he  was  rookit  by  the  Darien.  Eh  !  What  an 
alteration  it  was  to  Mrs  Walkinshaw,  his  gude- 
dochter.  She  was  a  bonnie  bodie  ;  but  frae  the 
time  o'  the  sore  news  she  croynt  awa,^  and  her 
life  gaed  out  like  the  snuff  o'  a  can'le.  Hey, 
Magdalene  Dobbie,  come  hither  to  me ;  I'm 
wanting  to  speak  to  thee  ! " 

Maudge,  at  this  shrill,  obstreperous  summons, 
leading  Claud  by  the  hand,  went  forward  to  the 
lady,  who  immediately  said — 

^  Croynt  awa.     Crynit  in :  shrivelled  up. 


<'  1st  t'ou 
what's  come 
Maudge  r^ 
in  her  eye,  i| 
'<  Dead  ! " 
extraordinarj 
end.     ^Vhar 
"We  werj 
comforted   n 
lady,  "  to  c( 
a  decay  o'  nl 
that  was  alul 
died   in   a  si 
this  helpless! 
The  provi 
still  looking] 
tended  man 
and  putting 
"  An'  is  tl 
it's  a  vera  p 
passion  on 
a  saxpence. 
"  Saxpen 
lady ;  "  ye 
to   the   lik 
bound  in 
his  lairdsh 
Ye   ken   1 

1  Boupit. 
being  ruokit. 
a  Oe.     Gr; 


THE  ENTAIL 


9 


V  of  the 
lied  the 
ig.  As 
she  re- 
visitors 
?e  ]ier- 
it  was 
almost 

^  yon's 
an.     I 
e,  sin' 
at  an 
gude- 
le  the 
d  her 
Hey, 
I'm 

tions, 
'  the 


I 


"  1st  t'oii  aye  in  Kittlcstonhcu^li's  service,  and 
^vllat's  come  o'  him  sin'  his  Ian'  was  loupit  ^  ?  " 

Maud^e  rej)lied  respectfully,  and  with  the  tear 
in  her  eye,  that  the  laird  was  dead. 

"  Dead  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs  (jorl)als  ;  "that's  very 
extraordinare.  I  doubt  he  was  ill  off  at  his  latter 
end.     Whar  did  he  die,  poor  man  ?  " 

"  We  were  obligated,"  said  Maudt^c,  somewhat 
comforted  by  the  compassionate  accent  of  the 
lady,  "to  come  intil  Cllas^ow,  where  he  fell  into 
a  decay  o'  nature."  And  she  added,  with  a  si<;h 
that  was  almost  a  sob,  "'Deed  it's  vera  true,  he 
died  in  a  sair  straitened  circumstance,  and  left 
this  helpless  laddie  upon  my  hands." 

The  provost,  who  had  in  the  meantime  been 
still  looking  about  in  quest  of  a  site  for  his  in- 
tended mansion,  on  hearing  this,  turned  round, 
and  putting  his  hand  in  his  pocket,  said — 

"  An'  is  this  Kittlestonheugh's  oe  ^  }  I'm  sure 
it's  a  vera  pitiful  thing  o'  you,  lucky,  to  tak  com- 
passion on  the  orphan.  Hae,  my  laddie,  there's 
a  saxpence." 

"  Saxpence,  gudeman ! "  exclaimed  the  provost's 
lady ;  "  ye'll  ne'er  even  your  han'  wi*  a  saxpence 
to  the  like  of  Kittlestonheugh,  for  sae  we're 
bound  in  nature  to  call  him,  landless  though 
his  lairdship  now  be.  Poor  bairn,  I'm  wae  for't ! 
Ye    ken   his   mother   was    sib    to    mine    by    the 

1  Roupit.     Exposed  for  auction  (when  he  was  sold  up  after 
being  ruokit,  or  cleared  out,  by  the  Darien). 

2  Oe.     Grandson. 


10 


THE  ENTAIL 


fatlier's  side,  and  l)lood's  thicker  tlian  water  ony 
day." 

Generosity  is  in  some  decree  one  of  tlie  necessary 
qualifications  of  a  (ilas^row  nia;;istrate,  and  Provost 
Gorbals,  being  as  well  endowed  with  it  as  any  of 
liis  successors  have  been  since,  was  not  displeased 
with  the  benevolent  warmth  of  his  wife,  especially 
when  he  understood  that  Claud  was  of  their  own 
kin.     On  the  contrary^  lie  said  affectionately — 

"  Really  it  was  vera  thoughtless  o'  me,  Liezy, 
my  dear ;  but  ye  ken  I  havena  an  instinct  to 
make  me  acquaint  wi'  the  particulars  of  folk 
before  hearing  about  them.  I'm  sure  no  living 
soul  can  have  a  greater  compassion  than  mysel' 
for  gentle  blood  come  to  needcessity." 

Mrs  Gorbals,  however,  instead  of  replying  to 
this  remark — indeed,  what  could  she  say  ?  for 
experience  had  taught  her  that  it  was  perfectly 
just — addressed  herself  again  to  Maudge. 

"  And  whar  dost  t'ou  live  ?  and  what  hast  t'ou 
to  live  upon  }  " 

"  I  hae  but  the  mercy  oi  Providence,"  was  the 
humble  answer  of  honest  Maudge,  "and  a  garret- 
room  in  John  Sinclair's  Ian'.  I  ettle  ^  as  weel  as 
I  can  for  a  morsel  by  working  stockings  ;  but 
Claud's  a  rumbling  ^  laddie,  and  needs  mair  than 
I  hae  to  gie  him :  a  young  appetite's  a  growing 
evil  in  the  poor's  aught."  ^ 

1  Ettlc.     Strive. 

^  Rumbling.   Used  here  in  reference  to  a  "growing"  appetite. 

*  Aught.     Eyes. 


The    pro\| 
each  other, 

"  Gudem.) 
It'll  no  fare 

And  Maul 
bring  Claud  I 
house  in  th 
Gorbals,  "  t 
do  for  him 
we'll    no    k 
think  of  ma 
«  No,"  re] 
that.     I  wo  I 
I   would    \y< 
how  could  I 
help   that  t 
gie    I'll  ace 
almous  is  w 
to  seek,  anc 
weitrht  and 
able  belyve 
Both  the 
her  spirit ; 
of  Maudge 
constant  k 
lived,  he  ^ 
ness,  but,  c 
discovered 
had  imagii 
strained  to 


THE  ENTAIL 


11 


lecessary 
I  J*rovost 
IS  any  of 
spk'ased 
■ij)ecially 
leir  own 
cly— 
!,  Liczy, 
tinct  to 
of  folk 
3  living 
mysel' 

King  to 
ly?  for 
Jrfectly 

ist  t'ou 

^as  the 
a^arret- 
veel  as 
i ;  but 
r  than 
owing 


)petite. 


fs 


The  provost  and  his  ^\•\fc  looked  kindly  at 
each  other,  and  the  latter  added — 

"CMidenian,  ye  maun  do  sonuthing  for  them. 
It'll  no  fare  the  Avaur  wi'  our  basket  and  our  store." 

And  Maudge  was  in  eonsecjuenee  recjuested  to 
bring  Claud  with  her  that  evening  to  the  provost's 
house  in  the  Bridgegate.  "  I  think,"  added  Mrs 
(iorbals,  "  that  our  Hughoc's  auld  elaes  will  just 
do  for  him  ;  and,  Maudge,  keep  a  good  heart : 
we'll  no  let  thee  want.  I  won'er  t'ou  didna 
think  of  making  an  application  to  us  afore." 

"  No,"  replied  the  old  woman, ''  I  could  ne'er  do 
that.  I  would  hae  been  in  an  unco  strait  before 
I  would  liae  begget  on  my  own  account ;  and 
how  could  I  think  o'  disgracing  the  family  ?  Any 
help  that  the  Lord  may  dispose  your  hearts  to 
gie  I'll  accept  wi'  great  thankfulness;  but  an 
almous  is  what  I  hope  He'll  ne'er  put  it  upon  lae 
to  seek,  and  though  Claud  be  for  the  present  a 
weight  and  burden,  yet,  an  he's  sparet,  he'll  be 
able  belyve  ^  to  do  something  for  himsel'." 

Both  the  provost  and  Mrs  Gorbals  commended 
her  spirit ;  and,  from  this  interview,  the  situation 
of  Maudge  was  considerably  improved  by  their 
constant  kindness.  Doubtless,  had  Mr  Gorbals 
lived,  he  would  have  assisted  Claud  into  busi- 
ness, but,  dying  suddenly,  his  circumstances  were 
discovered  to  be  less  flourishing  than  the  world 
had  imagined,  and  his  widow  found  herself  con- 
strained to  abridge  her  wonted  liberality. 

1  Belyve.     By  times. 


12 


THE  ENTAIL 


Maudge,  however,  wrestled  witn  poverty  as 
well  as  sJie  could  till  (laud  had  attained  his 
eleventh  year,  when  she  thou<^ht  he  was  of  a 
sufficient  capacity  to  do  sometliin*^  for  himself. 
Accordingly,  she  intimated  to  Mrs  Gorbals  that 
she  hoped  it  would  be  in  her  power  to  help  her 
with  the  loan  of  a  guinea  to  set  him  out  in  the 
world  with  a  pack.  This  the  lady  readily  pro- 
mised, but  advised  her  to  make  ajiplication  first 
to  his  relation.  Miss  Christiana  Heritage. 

"  She's  in  a  bien  circumstance,"  ^  said  Mrs 
Gorbals,  "for  her  father,  auld  Windy wa's,  left 
her  weel  on  to  five  hundred  pounds,  and  her 
cousin.  Lord  Killycrankie,  ane  of  the  fi^teen,^  that 
aye  stayed  in  our  house  when  he  rode  the  circuit, 
being  heir  of  entail  to  her  father,  allocs  her  the 
use  of  the  house,  so  that  she's  in  a  way  to  do 
muckle  for  the  laddie,  if  her  heart  were  so  in- 
clined." 

Maudge,  agreeably  to  this  suggestion,  went 
next  day  to  Windywalls  ;  but  we  must  reserve 
our  account  of  the  mansion  and  its  mistress  to 
enrich  our  next  chapter,  for  Miss  Christiana  was, 
even  in  our  day  and  generation,  a  personage  of 
no  small  consequence  in  her  own  eyes :  indeed, 
for  that  matter,  she  was  no  less  in  ours,  if  we 
may  judge  by  the  niche  which  she  occupies  in 
the  gallery  of  our  recollection,  after  the  lapse  of 
more  than  fifty  years. 

1  Bien  circumstance.     Well-to-do  condition. 

2  Ane  of  the  fifteen.     Lords  of  Session. 


In  the  coi 

commenced 
that  in  aft 
brated,   out 
Havers,   ca 
chariot  to  \ 
Heritage, 
contemplat 

ancient  raii 

fanc'^    of  £ 

with  a  tall 

dwarfish  ar 

carved  in  s 

at  each  si 

hood  ascri 

tors  who 

the  High 

On    en 

cended  a 

and  lofty 

in  a  dec 

with  lo/< 

more   tn 


•verty   as 
iiied    his 
•IS    of  a 
himself, 
•lis   tJiat 
help  her 
t  in  tlie 
ily  pro- 
ion  first 

id  Mrs 
i%  left 
nd  her 
1.2  that 
circuit, 
ler  the 

to  do 

so  in- 

went 
eserve 
3SS  to 
I  Mas, 
ge  of 
Jeed, 
if  we 
es  in 
56  of 


CHAPTER    III 

IN  the  course  of  the  same  sumVner  in  which  we 
commenced  those  grammar-school  acquirements 
that  in  after-hfe  have  been  so  deservedly  cele- 
brated, our  revered  relative,  the  late  old  Lady 
Havers,  carried  us  in  her  infinn  dowagerian 
chariot  to  pay  her  annual  visit  to  Miss  Christiana 
Heritage.  In  the  admiration  with  which  we 
contemplated  the  venerable  mansion  and  its 
ancient  mistress,  an  indistinct  vision  rises  in  our 
fancy  of  a  large  irregular  whitewashed  house, 
with  a  tall  turnj)ike  staircase,  over  the  low  and 
dwarfish  arched  door  of  which  a  huge  cable  was 
carved  in  stone,  and  dropped  in  a  knotted  testoon 
at  each  side.  The  traditions  of  the  neighbour- 
hood ascribed  this  carving  to  the  Pictish  sculp- 
tors who  executed  the  principal  ornaments  of 
the  High  Kirk  of  Glasgow. 

On  entering  under  this  feudal  arch  we  as- 
cended a  spiral  stair,  and  were  shown  into  a  large 
and  lofty  room,  on  three  sides  of  which,  each  far 
in  a  deep  recess,  was  a  narrow  -.vindow  glazed 
with  lozens  of  yellow  glass,  that  seemed  scarcely 
more    transparent    than    horn.     The    walls   were 

13 


14 


THE  ENTAIL 


hung  with  tapestry,  from  which  tremendous 
forms,  in  warhke  attitudes  and  with  grim  as- 
pects, frowned  in  apparitional  obscurity. 

But  of  all  the  circumstances  of  a  visit  which 
we  must  ever  consider  as  a  glimpse  into  the 
presence-chamber  of  the  olden  time,  none  made 
so  deep  and  so  vivid  an  impression  upon  our 
young  remembrance  as  the  appearance  and  de- 
portment of  Miss  Christiana  herself.  She  had 
been  apprised  of  Lady  Havers'  coming,  and  was 
seated  in  state  to  receive  her,  on  a  large  settee 
adorned  with  ancestral  needlework.  She  rose 
as  our  venerable  relation  entered  the  room. 
Alas  !  we  have  lived  to  know  that  we  shall  never 
again  behold  the  ceremonial  of  a  reception  half 
so  solemnly  performed. 

Miss  Christiana  was  dressed  in  a  courtly  suit  of 
purple  Genoese  velvet.  Her  petticoat,  spread  by 
her  hoop,  extended  almost  to  arm's-length  at 
each  side.  The  ruffle  cuffs  which  hung  at  her 
elbows,  loaded  with  lead,  were  coeval  with  the 
Union,  having  been  worn  by  her  mother  when 
she  attended  her  husband  to  that  assembly  of  the 
States  of  Scotland  which  put  an  end  to  the  in- 
dependence and  poverty  of  the  kingdom.  But 
who,  at  this  dtstance  of  time,  shall  presume  to 
estimate  the  altitude  of  the  Babylonian  tower  of 
toupees  and  lappets  which  adorned  Miss  Chris- 
tiana's brow  ? 

It  is  probable  that  the  reception  which  she 
gave  to  poor  Maudge  and  Claud  was  not  quite  so 


ceremonious 
of  the  visit 
on  hearing 
tion  against 
juul  setting 
lected  amonj 
cient  to  ena\ 
for  Claud, 
had  worked 
i\  strap  to  sll 
with  a  judicij 
tracts,  curtai| 
a  compendic 
thimbles,  staj 
ballads  and 
shaw  espousd 
His  excui 
neighbouring 
:    gabby,2  he 
jTOodwill  of 
of  time  few 
better  likec 
he  was  the 
His  succt 
tations  of  1 
might  have 
did,  the  ki 
tionate  old 


1 

2 
3 


THE  ENTAIL 


15 


nendous 
rn'm  as- 

t  wJiicIi 
^to    the 
e  made 
on    our 
nd  de- 
le  had 
id  was 
settee 
5   rose 
room, 
never 
I  half 


ceremonious  as  ours ;  for  the  substantial  benison 
of  the  visit  was  but  half-a-crown.  Mrs  Gorbals, 
on  hearing  this,  exclaimed  with  a  just  indigna- 
tion against  the  near-be-gaun  ^  Miss  Christiana, 
and  setting  herself  actively  to  work,  soon  col- 
lected among  her  acquaintance  a  small  sum  suffi- 
cient to  enable  Maudge  to  buy  and  furnish  a  pack 
for  Claud.  James  Bridle,  the  saddlemaker,  who 
had  worked  for  his  father,  gave  him  a  present  of 
a  strap  to  sling  it  over  his  shoulder ;  and  thus, 
with  a  judicious  selection  of  godly  and  humorous 
tracts,  curtain-rings,  sleeve-buttons,  together  with 
a  compendious  assortment  of  needles  and  pins, 
thimbles,  stay-laces  and  garters,  with  a  bunch  of 
ballads  and  excellent  new  songs,  Claud  Walkin- 
shaw  espoused  his  fortune. 

His  excursions  at  first  were  confined  to  the 
neighbouring  villages,  and  as  he  was  sly  and 
gabby,^  he  soon  contrived  to  get  in  about  the 
goodwill  of  the  farmers'  wives,  and  in  process 
of  time  few  pedlars  in  all  the  west  country  were 
better  liked,  though  every  one  complained  that 
he  was  the  dearest  and  the  gairest.^ 

His  success  equalled  the  most  sanguine  expec- 
tations of  Maudge ;  but  Mrs  Gorbals  thought  he 
might  have  recollected,  somewhat  better  than  he 
did,  the  kindness  and  care  with  which  the  affec- 
tionate  old  creature  had  struggled  to  support  him 

1  Ncar-he-gaiin.     Narrow,  greedy. 

2  Gabby.     Here,  subtle  in  the  tongue. 
*  Gaircst.     Greediest. 


16 


THE  ENTAIL 


in  his  helplessness.  As  often,  however,  as  that 
"warm-h carted  lady  inquired  if  he  gave  her  any 
of  his  winnings,  Maudge  was  obliged  to  say,  "  I 
hope,  poor  lad,  he  has  more  sense  than  to  think 
o'  the  like  o'  me.  Isna  he  striving  to  make  a 
conquest  of  the  lands  of  his  forefathers  ?  Ye 
ken  he's  come  o'  gentle  blood,  and  I  am  nae 
better  than  his  servan'." 

But  although  Maudge  spoke  thus  generously, 
still,  sometimes,  when  she  had  afterwards  become 
bedrid,  and  was  left  to  languish  and  linger  out  the 
remnant  of  age  in  her  solitary  garret,  comforted 
only  by  the  occasional  visits  and  charitable  atten- 
tions of  Mrs  Gorbals,  the  wish  would  now  and 
then  rise  that  Claud,  when  he  was  prospering 
in  the  traffic  of  the  Borders,  would  whiles  think 
of  her  forlorn  condition.  But  it  was  the  lambent 
play  of  affection,  in  which  anxiety  to  see  him 
again  before  she  died  was  stronger  than  any  other 
feeling ;  and  as  often  as  she  felt  it  moving  her  to 
repine  at  his  inattention,  she  would  turn  herself 
to  the  wall  and  implore  the  Father  of  Mercies  to 
prosper  his  honest  endeavours,  and  that  he  might 
ne'er  be  troubled  in  his  industry  with  any  thought 
about  such  a  burden  as  it  had  pleased  Heaven  to 
make  her  to  the  world. 

After  having  been  bedria  for  about  the  space 
of  two  years,  Maudge  died.  Claud,  in  the  mean- 
time, was  thriving  as  well  as  the  prigging  ^  wives 
and  higgling  girls  in  his  beat  between  the  Nith 

^  Pi'iggimj.     Like  hvjyling,  beating  down  in  a  bargain. 


and  the  Ty] 
pedlar  wh( 
the    Bordeii 
sions  such 
thought  b>j 
country  for 
was  actuate! 
the  former  I 
faithful  his 
the  reader 
dulge  hime 
absolute  fa 
parts  of  th 
most  profits 
hospitable  < 
metical  phi 


VOL.  I. 


THE  ENTAIL 


17 


',  as  that 
her  any 

)  say,  "I 
to  think 
make  a 

•s  ?  Ye 
am  nae 

lerously, 
become 
out  the 
mforted 
9  atten- 
ow  and 
spering 
5  think 
imbent 
Je  him 
Y other 
her  to 
herself 
cies  to 
might 
lought 
^en  to 


space 

nean- 

wives 

Nith 


I 


and  the  Tyne  would  permit.  Nor  was  there  any 
pedlar  who  was  better  known  at  the  fairs  of 
the  Border  towns,  or  displayed  on  those  occa- 
sions such  a  rich  assortment  of  goods.  It  was 
thought  by  some  that,  in  choosing  that  remote 
country  for  the  scene  of  his  itinerant  trade,  he 
was  actuated  by  some  sentiment  of  reverence  for 
the  former  consequence  of  his  family.  But,  as 
faithful  historians,  we  are  compelled  to  remind 
the  reader  that  he  was  too  worldly  wise  to  in- 
dulge himself  with  anything  so  romantic :  the 
absolute  fact  being  that,  after  tryiii^  many  other 
parts  of  the  country,  he  found  the  Borders  the 
most  profitable,  ■  the  inhabitants  also  the  most 
hospitable  custo.iiers — no  small  item  in  the  arith» 
metical  philosophy  of  a  pedlar. 


xn. 


VOL.   I. 


B 


ch_4:pter  IV 


-/jLBOUT  twenty  years  after  the  death  of  Maudge, 
Claud  returned  to  Glasgow  with  five  hundred 
pounds  alcove  the  world,  and  settled  himself  as 
a  cloth-merchant  in  a  shop  under  the  piazza  of  a 
house  which  occupied  part  of  the  ground  where 
the  Exchange  now  stands.  The  resolution,  which 
he  had  early  formed,  to  redeem  the  inheritance 
of  his  ancestors,  and  his  old  affectionate  benefac- 
tress had  perhaps  inspired  as  well  as  cherished, 
was  grown  into  a  habit.  His  carefulness,  his 
assiduity,  his  parsimony,  his  very  honesty,  had 
no  other  object  nor  motive  ;  it  was  the  actuating 
principle  of  his  life.  Some  years  after  he  had 
settled  in  Glasgow,  his  savings  and  gatherings 
enabled  him  to  purchase  the  farm  of  Grippy,  a 
part  of  the  patrimony  of  his  fiimily. 

The  feelings  of  the  mariner  returning  home, 
when  he  again  beholds  the  rising  hills  of  his 
native  land,  and  the  joys  and  fears  of  the  father's 
bosom,  when,  after  a  long  absence,  he  approaches 
the  abode  of  his  children,  are  tame  and  calm 
compared  to  the  deep  and  greedy  satisfaction 
with  which  the  persevering  pedlar  received  the 

18 


I  etirth  and  st(| 
cdUl  and  stei 
In   the    sam( 
worthy  of  til 
iiient  which,! 
almost  partal 
solved  to  md 
the  property,! 
ever  have  it 
prudence  wlj 
a  morsel,  and 
the  same  nij| 
prospects  of 
scope  of  his 
tions    should 
Hypel,  the  o 
laird  of  Pleal; 
They  were 
been  led  to  ' 
occurred  on 
father  was  a 
circuit ;  for, 
city,  be  bad 
tenant  that 
heard  of  w 
Claud  to  CO 
much  of  his 
"  1  bear,' 
and  profferi 
ye  hae   gol 
It's  true  so 


THE  ENTAIL 


19 


faudge, 
undred 
iself  as 
;za  of  a 
where 
which 
I'itance 
;nefac- 
•ished, 
his 
had 
latiiifr 

0  had 
'rings 

py.  a, 

lome, 
f  his 
her's 
tches 
calm 
ition 
the 


enrlh  and  stone  that  gave  him  infeftment  of  tliat 
cold  and  sterile  portion  of  his  forefathers'  estate. 
Ill  the  same  moment  he  formed  a  rcsolntion 
worthy  of  the  sentiment  he  then  felt — a  senti- 
ment which,  in  a  less  sordid  breast,  might  have 
almost  partaken  of  the  pride  of  virtne.  He  re- 
solved to  marry,  and  beget  children,  and  entail 
the  property,  that  none  of  his  descendants  might 
ever  have  it  in  their  power  to  commit  the  im- 
prudence which  had  brouglit  his  grandfather  to 
a  morsel,  and  thrown  himself  on  the  world.  And 
the  same  night,  after  maturely  considering  the 
prospects  of  all  the  heiresses  within  the  probable 
scope  of  his  ambition,  he  resolved  that  his  affec- 
tions should  be  directed  towards  Miss  Girzy 
Hypel,  the  only  daughter  of  Malachi  Hypel,  the 
laird  of  Plealands. 

They  were  in  some  degree  related,  and  he  had 
been  led  to  think  of  her  from  an  incident  which 
occurred  on  the  day  he  made  the  purchase.  Her 
father  was  at  the  time  in  Glasgow  attending  the 
circuit ;  for,  as  often  as  the  judges  visited  the 
city,  he  had  some  dispute  with  a  neighbour  or  a 
tenant  that  required  their  interposition.  Having 
heard  of  what  had  taken  place,  he  called  on 
Claud  to  congratulate  him  on  the  recovery  of  so 
much  of  his  family  inheritance. 

"  I  hear,"  said  the  laird,  on  entering  the  shop, 
and  proffering  his  hand  across  the  counter,  "  that 
ye  hae  gotten  a  sappy  bargain  o'  the  Gri{)py. 
It's  true  some  o'  the  lands  are  but  cauld ;  hows- 


20 


THE  ENTAIL 


ever,  cousin,  ne'er  fnsh  your  thumb  :  Glasgow's 
on  the  tlirive,  .and  ye  hae  as  many  een  in  your 
head  for  an  advantage  as  onybody  I  ken.  But 
now  that  ye  hae  gotten  a  house,  wha's  to  be  the 
leddy?  I'm  sure  ye  might  do  waur  than  casta 
sheep's  e'e  in  at  our  door ;  my  dochter  Girzy's  o' 
your  ain  flesh  and  blood ;  I  dinna  see  ony  moral 
impossibility  in  her  becoming,  as  the  psalmist 
says,  'bone  of  thy  bone.'  " 

Claud  replied  in  his  wonted  couthy  manner — 

"  Nane  o'  your  jokes,  laird — me  even  mysel'  to 
your  dochter  !  Na,  na,  Plealands,  that  canna  be 
thought  o'  nowadays.  But,  no  to  make  a  ridi- 
cule of  sic  a  solemn  concern,  it's  vera  true  that, 
hadna  my  grandfather,  when  he  was  grown 
doited,^  sent  out  a'  the  Kittlestonheugh  in  a 
cargo  o'  playocks  to  the  Darien,  I  might  hae 
been  in  a  state  and  condition  to  look  at  Miss 
Girzy ;  but,  ye  ken,  I  hae  a  lang  clue  to  wind 
before  I  maun  think  o'  playing  the  ba'  wi'  For- 
tune, in  ettling  so  far  aboun  my  reach." 

"  SnuiFs  o'  tobacco ! "  exclaimed  the  laird.  "  Are 
nae  ye  sib  to  oursel's  }  And,  if  ye  dinna  fail  by 
your  ain  blateness,^  our  Girzy's  no  surely  past 
speaking  to.  Just  lay  your  leg,  my  man,  ouer 
a  side  o'  horse-flesh,  and  come  your  ways,  some 
Saturday,  to  speer^  her  price." 

It  was  upon  this  delicate  hint  that  Grippy  was 

1  Doited.     Addle-patcd. 

^  Blatcncss.    Shyness,  awkwardness. 

3  Spccr.    Ask. 


^induced  to  tl| 
incr  that  he  \j 
might  get  hi 
visit  until  h^ 
neighbouring! 
to  say,  a  richj 
with  repulsivj 
answers  to  hi] 
as  we  have  si 
took  legal  po 
to  visit  Plealj 
might  not  b< 
next  day  by 
of  his  intent 
receive  him  f 
return  of  Johi 
following,  he 
he  was  indue 
tailor,  a  douc 
the  elders  of 
"  Come  yoi 
lover;   "I  w 
doing  about  i 
"Doing,   ? 
our  bairns'  I: 
rank  and  ca 
Kirk  o'   Sco1 
be  after  the 
Lon'on,  and 
papistical  na 
Mr  Walkins 


THE  ENTAIL 


21 


Glasgow's 
11  in  your 
ien.  But 
to  be  the 
lan  cast  a 
Girzy's  o' 
3ny  moral 
psalmist 

inner — 
mysel'  to 
canna  be 
:e  a  ridi- 
true  that, 
s  grown 
igh  in  a 
ight  hae 

at  Miss 
to  wind 

wi'  For- 

"Are 
fail  by 
sly  past 
m,  ouer 
'^s,  some 

3py  was 


induced  to  think  of  Miss  Girzy  Hypel ;  but,  find- 
inic  that  he  was  deemed  a  fit  match  for  her,  and 
might  get  her  when  he  would,  he  deferred  the 
visit  until  he  had  cast  about  among  the  other 
neighbouring  lairds'  families  for  a  better  (that  is 
to  say,  a  richer)  match.  In  this,  whether  he  met 
with  repulsive  receptions,  or  found  no  satisfactory 
answers  to  his  inquiries,  is  not  quite  certain ;  but, 
as  we  have  said,  in  the  same  night  on  which  he 
took  legal  possession  of  his  purchase,  he  resolved 
to  visit  Plealands ;  and,  in  order  that  the  family 
might  not  be  taken  unawares,  he  sent  a  letter 
next  day  by  the  Ayr  carrier  to  apprise  the  laird 
of  his  intention,  provided  it  was  convenient  to 
receive  him  for  a  night.  To  this  letter,  by  the 
return  of  Johnny  Drizen,  the  carrier,  on  the  week 
following,  he  received  such  a  cordial  reply  that 
he  was  induced  to  send  for  Cornelius  Luke,  the 
tailor,  a  douce  and  respectable  man,  and  one  of 
the  elders  of  the  Tron  Kirk. 

"  Come  your  ways,  Cornie,"  said  the  intending 
lover ;  "  I  want  to  speak  to  you  anent  what's 
doing  about  the  new  kirk  on  the  Green  Knowe." 

"  Doing,  Mr  Walkinshaw  !  It's  a  doing  that 
onr  bairns'  bairns  will  ne'er  hear  the  end  o' — a 
rank  and  carnal  innovation  on  the  spirit  o'  the 
Kirk  o'  Scotland,"  replied  the  elder.  "  It's  to 
be  after  the  fashion  o'  some  prelatic  Babel  in 
Lon'on,  and  they  hae  christened  it  already  by  the 
papistical  name  o'  St  Andrew — a  sore  thing  that, 
Mr  Walkinshaw ;  but  the  Lord  has  set  His  face 


2 '2 


THE  ENTAIL 


against  it,  and  tlic  builders  thereof  are  smitten  as 
wi'  a  confusion  o'  tonijfues,  in  the  lack  o'  siller 
to  fulfil  their  idolatrous  intents — Blessed  be  Mis 
name  for  evermore !  But  wasna  Mr  Kilfuddy, 
wha  preached  for  Mr  Anderson  last  Sabbath, 
most  sweet  and  delectable  on  the  vanities  of  this 
life,  in  his  forenoon  lecture  ?  And  didna  ye 
think,  when  he  spoke  o'  that  seventh  wonder  o' 
the  world,  the  temple  of  Diana,  and  enlarged  wi' 
sic  pith  and  marrow  on  the  idolaters  in  Ephesus, 
that  he  was  looking  ouer  his  shouther  at  Lowrie 
Dinwiddie  and  Provost  Aiton,  who  are  no  wrang't 
in  being  wyted  wi'  i  the  sin  o'  this  inordinate 
superstructure  ?  Mr  Walkinshaw,  I'm  nae  pro- 
phet, as  ye  weel  ken  ;  but  I  can  see  that  the 
day's  no  far  aff  when  ministers  of  the  gospel  in 
Glasgow  will  be  seen  chambering  and  wantoning 
to  the  sound  o'  the  kist  fu'  o'  whistles,  wi'  the 
seven-headed  beast  routing  its  choruses  at  every 
ouercome  o'  the  spring." 

Which  prediction  was  in  our  own  day  and 
generation  to  a  great  degree  fulfilled.  At  the 
time,  however,  it  only  served  to  move  the  pawkie 
cloth-merchant  to  say — 

"  Nae  doubt,  Comie,  the  world's  like  the  tod's  - 
whelp,  aye  the  anlder  the  waur ;  but  I  trust  we'll 
hear  news  in  the  land  before  the  like  o'  that 
comes  to  pass.  Howsever,  in  the  words  of  truth 
and  holiness,  *  sufficient  for  the  day  is  the  evil 
thereof;'  and  let  us  hope  that  a  regenerating 
1  Wytcd  wC.     Accused  of.  2  Tod's.     Fox  s. 


'  spirit  may  J 
tliat  all  thi 
up,  root  aiuj 
"  No  :  be| 
''  Even  of  tl 
a  remnant 
'^  That's 
replied  ClaJ 
a  bit  blue  ol 
and  the  mo 
won'er  if  yc 
The  rem; 
ter,  and   Co 
declared  th 
of  darning, 
very  well." 
to  him,  with 
Friday;  anc 
complete  a  ^ 
as  he   told 
Mr  Walkins 
"there  was 
ance ;    a  foi 
this  life  ;  a  : 
and  peace, 
endureth  fc 
"  I'm  blit 


answer, 


(( 


fc 


penure    pig 


2  FMes. 


THE  ENTAir. 


OS 


smitten  as 
k  o'  siller 
lhI  he  His 

Kilfuddv, 

Sabbath, 
es  of  this 
didiia  }t 
wonder  o' 
larged  w  i' 

Ephesus, 
=it  Lowrie 
o  wrang't 
nordinate 
nae   pro- 

that  the 
gospel  in 
'^aiitoniiii: 
wi'  the 

at  every 

day  and 
At  the 
5  pawkie 

le  tod's  2  I  \ 
ust  we'll  I 
o'  that  t 
of  truth  I 
the  evil  I 
lerating 


s})irit  may  go  forth  to  the  ends  o'  tlie  earth,  and 
that  all  the  sons  of  men  will  not  be  utterly  cut 
up,  root  and  branch." 

'^  No  :  be  thankit,"  said  Cornelius  the  tailor. 
"  Even  of  those  that  shall  live  in  the  latter  days, 
a  remnant  will  be  saved." 

''That's  a  great  comfort,  Mr  Luke,  to  us  a','' 
replied  Claud.  "  But,  talking  o'  remnants,  I  hae 
a  bit  blue  o'  superfine  ;  it  has  been  lang  on  hand, 
and  the  moths  are  beginning  to  meddle  wi't.  I 
won'er  if  ye  could  mak  me  a  coat  o't  ?" 

The  remnant  was  then  produced  on  the  coun- 
ter, and  Cornelius,  after  inspecting  it  carefully, 
declared  that,  "  with  the  help  of  a  steek  or  twa 
of  darning,  that  wouldna  be  percep,  it  would  do 
very  well."  The  cloth  was  accordingly  delivered 
to  him,  with  strict  injunctions  to  have  it  ready  by 
Friday ;  and  with  all  the  requisite  et  cceteras  to 
complete  a  coat,  he  left  the  shop  greatly  edified, 
as  he  told  his  wife,  by  the  godly  salutations  of 
Mr  Walkinshaw's  spirit;  "wherein,"  as  he  said, 
"there  was  a  kithing^  of  fruit  meet  for  repent- 
ance ;  a  foretaste  o'  things  that  pertain  not  to 
this  life  ;  a  receiving  o'  the  erle  -  ^  of  righteousness 
and  peace,  which  passeth  all  understanding,  and 
endureth  for  evermore." 

"  I'm  blithe  to  heart,"  was  the  worthy  woman's 
answer,  "  for  he's  an  even-down  Nabal — a  perfect 
penure    pig — that    I   ne'er  could  abide  since  he 


2  Erles.     Earnests.     Bee  N 


Kithinr).     Manifestation. 

B,  Sir  Andrew  Wi/lie. 


24  THE  ENTAIL 

wouldna  lend  poor  old  Mrs  Gorbals,  the  provost's 
widow,  that,  they  say,  set  him  up  in  the  world, 
the  sma'  soom  o'  five  pounds,  to  help  her  wi'  the 
outfit  o'  her  oe  when  he  was  gaun  to  Virginia,  u 
clerk  to  Bailie  Cross." 


provost's 
ic  world, 
3r  wi'  the 
irginia,  a 


M 


CHAPTER    V 

}}  HEN  Claud  was  duly  equipped  by  Cornelius 
Luke  in  the  best  fashion  of  that  period  for  a  bien 
cloth-merchant  of  the  discreet  age  of  forty-seven, 
a  message  was  sent  by  his  shop-lad,  Jock  Gleg, 
to  Rob  Wallace,  the  horse-couper  ^  in  the  Gallow- 
gate,  to  have  his  beast  in  readiness  next  morning 
by  seven  o'clock,  the  intended  lover  having,  seve- 
ral days  before,  bespoke  it  for  the  occasion. 

Accordingly,  at  seven  o'clock  on  Saturday 
morning,  Rob  was  with  the  horse  himself  at  the 
entry  to  Cochran's  Land,  in  the  Candleriggs, 
where  Claud  then  lodged ;  and  the  wooer,  in  the 
sprucest  cut  of  his  tailor,  with  a  long  silver-headed 
whip  in  his  hand,  borrowed  from  his  friend  and 
customer,  Bailie  Murdoch,  attended  by  Jock  Gleg, 
carrying  a  stool,  came  to  the  close-mouth. 

"  I'm  thinking,  Mr  Walkinshaw,"  said  Rob  the 
horse-couper,  "  that  ye  wouldna  be  the  waur  of  a 
spur,  an'  it  were  only  on  the  ae  heel." 

^  Horse-couper,     Horse-dealer ;  not  necessarily  applied  io 

one  who  makes  up  valueless  horses  for  the  market  to  cheat  the 

unwary-.    "  Cow  couper"  also  is  in  U50  ;  and  in  Kutherford^a 

Letters  "  soul-coupers  "  occurs. 

25 


26 


THE  ENTAIL 


"Wc  maun  do  our  ])est  without  that  com- 
modity, Rob/'  replied  Clautl,  trying  to  crack  his 
whip  in  a  gallant  style,  but  unfortunately  cutting; 


his  own  leg  through  the  dark  blue  rig-and-fiir 
gamashins  ^ ; — for  he  judiciously  considered  that, 
for  so  short  a  journey,  and  that  too  on  specula- 
tion, it  was  not  worth  his  while  to  get  a  pair 
of  boots. 

Rob  drew  up  the  horse,  and  Jock  having 
placed  the  stool,  Claud  put  his  right  foot  in  the 
stirrup,  at  which  Rob  and  some  of  the  students 
of  the  college,  who  happened  to  be  attracted 
to  the  spot,  with  divers  others  then  and  there 
present,  set  up  a  loud  shout  of  laughter,  much 
to  his  molestation.  But  surely  no  man  is  ex- 
pected to  know  by  instinct  the  proper  way  of 
mounting  a  horse,  and  this  was  the  first  time 
that  Claud  had  ever  ascended  the  back  of  any 
quadruped. 

When  he  had  clambered  into  the  saddle,  Rob 
led  tlie  horse  into  the  middle  of  tlie  street,  and 
thi  I'cast,  of  its  own  accord,  walked  soberly 
across  the  Trongate  towards  the  Stockwell.  The 
conduct  of  the  horse  for  some  time  was,  indeed, 
most  considerate,  and,  in  consequence,  although 
Claud  hung  heavily  over  his  neck  and  held  him 
as  fast  as  possible  with  his  knees,  he  passed  the 
bridge,  and  cleared  the  buildings  beyond,  without 
attracting  in  any  particular  degree  the  admiration 

^  Rig-and-far   gamaskins.     Lcjj- protectors,    worked    ia    a 
rinbed  fiishion. 


of  the   pul 
unguarded 
thought  it 
and  the  hor| 
to   a   trot, 
exclaimed 
through   in  I 
time  they  r| 
ing  to  see 
and,  notwit 
nobly  he  p 
that  village 
manner,   ca 
doors,  and 
bark  and  I 
for't  but   1 
The   noise 
horseback, 
every  door 


caps, 


and 


and  cluste 

the   gener 

on  seeing 

his    vaulti 

no  less  a 

Glasgow. 

Among 

perceivinj 

was  accu!" 

to  encouv 


THE  ENTAIL 


27 


iiat  com- 
cmck  Jiis 
y  ciittinjr 
L,MincI-fnr 
red  that, 
specula- 
t  a  pair 


Iiou^li 


d  ] 


iini 


m   a 


of  the  public  towards  his  rider.  But,  in  an 
unguarded  moment,  the  infatuated  Claud  rashly 
tliought  it  necessary  to  employ  the  bailie's  whip, 
and  the  horse,  so  admonished,  quickened  his  pace 
to  a  trot.  "Heavens,  ca'  they  this  riding!" 
exclaimed  Claud,  and  almost  bit  his  tongue 
tiirough  in  the  utterance.  However,  by  the 
time  they  reached  Cathcart  it  was  quite  surpris- 
ing to  see  how  well  he  worked  in  the  saddle, 
and,  notwithstanding  the  continued  jolting,  how 
nobly  he  preserved  his  balance  ;  but  on  entering 
that  village,  all  the  dogs,  in  the  most  terrifying 
manner,  came  rushing  out  from  the  cottage- 
doors,  and  pursued  the  trotting  horse  with  such 
bark  and  bay  that  the  })oor  animal  saw  no  other 
for't  but  to  trot  from  them  faster  and  faster. 
The  noise  of  the  dogs,  and  of  a  passenger  on 
horseback,  drew  forth  the  inhabitants,  and  at 
every  door  might  be  seen  beldams  with  flannel 
caps,  and  mothers  with  babies  in  their  arms, 
and  clusters  of  children  around  them.  It  was 
the  general  opinion  among  all  the  spectators, 
on  seeing  the  spruce  new  clothes  of  Claud,  and 
his  vaulting  liorsemanshij),  that  he  could  be 
no  less  a  personage  than  the  Lord  Provost  of 
Glasgow. 

Among  them  were  a  few  country  lads,  who, 
perceiving  how  little  the  rider's  seat  of  honour 
was  accustomed  to  a  saddle,  had  the  wickedness 
to  encourage  and  e'fi;ir  i  on  the  dogs  to  attack  the 


'  n 


i/9' 


U 


rgo. 


28 


THE  ENTAIL 


horse  still  more  furiously ;  but,  notwithstandinf^ 
their  malice,  Claud  still  kept  his  seat,  until  all 
the  dogs  but  one  devil  of  a  terrier  had  retired 
from  the  pursuit.  Nothing  could  equal  the  spirit 
and  pertinacity  with  which  that  implacable  cur 
hung  upon  the  rear  and  snapped  at  the  heels 
of  the  horse.  Claud,  who  durst  not  venture 
to  look  behind  lest  he  should  lose  his  balance, 
several  times  damned  the  dog  with  great  sin- 
cerity, and  tried  to  lash  him  away  with  Bailie 
Murdoch's  silver-headed  whip ;  but  the  terrier 
would  not  desist. 

How  long  the  attack  might  have  continued 
there  is  certainly  no  telling,  as  it  was  quickly 
determined  by  one  of  those  lucky  hits  of  fortune 
which  are  so  desirable  in  life.  The  long  lash  of 
the  bailie's  whip,  in  one  of  Claud's  blind  attempts, 
happily  knotted  itself  round  the  neck  of  the  dog. 
The  horse,  at  the  same  moment,  started  forward 
into  that  pleasant  speed  at  which  the  pilgrims 
of  yore  were  wont  to  pass  from  London  to  the 
shrine  of  St  Thomas  k  Becket  at  Canterbury 
(which,  for  brevity,  is  in  vulgar  parlance  called 
in  consequence  a  ''canter");  and  Claud  dragged 
the  terrier  at  his  whip-string  end,  like  an  angler 
who  has  hooked  a  salmon  that  he  cannot  raise 
out  of  the  water,  until  he  met  with  Johnny 
Drizen,  th**  Ayr  carrier,  coming  on  his  weekly 
journey  to  Glasgow. 

"  Lordsake,  Mr  Walkinshaw  ! "  exclaimed  the 
t  irrier  as  he  drew  his  horse  aside  :  "  in  the  name 


of  the   LorJ 
ve're  haulini 
<'  For  the] 
distressed 
sion  and  pe| 
of  heaven  si 
The  torn 
which  this 
effect  on  tl 
carrier  that 
of  a  philant 
bridle-rings 
down  the  > 
lash,  and  mi 
saddle,  fell 
the  lustre  aj 
he   soon   re' 
and  tremble 
bent  forwar 
utterly  una 
other   posit 
St  Sebastia 
suffered. 

His   first 

Johnny,  tl 

created. 

hae  done  i 

e'er  be  abl 

This  CO 

end  to  b\ 

which  thr 


THE  ENTAIL 


29 


istandinf' 
until  all 
d  retired 
the  spirit 
able  cur 
he  heels 
venture 
balance, 
■eat  sin- 
h   Bailie 
terrier 

fitinued 
quickly 
fortune 
lash  of 
empts, 
le  dog. 
orward 
ilgrims 
to  the 
srbury 
called 
agged 
mgler 
raise 
•hnny 
eekly 

I  the 
lame 


of  the  Lord  wliar  are  ye  gaun,  and  what's  that 
vc're  hauling  ahint  you  ?" 

"  For  the  love  of  heaven,  Johnny,"  replied  the 
distressed  cloth-merchant,  pale  with  apprehen- 
sion and  perspiring  at  every  pore — "  for  the  love 
of  heaven  stop  this  desperate  beast !  " 

The  tone  of  terror  and  accent  of  anguish  in 
which  this  invocation  was  uttered  had  such  an 
effect  on  the  humanity  and  feelings  of  the  Ayr 
carrier  that  he  ran  towards  Claud  with  the  ardour 
of  a  philanthropist,  and  seized  the  horse  by  the 
bridle-rings.  Claud,  in  the  same  moment,  threw 
down  the  whip,  with  the  strangled  dog  at  the 
lash,  and  making  an  endeavour  to  vault  out  of  the 
saddle,  fell  into  the  mire,  and  materially  damaged 
the  lustre  and  beauty  of  his  new  coat.  However, 
he  soon  regained  his  legs,  but  they  so  shook 
and  trembled  that  he  could  scarcely  stand,  as  he 
bent  forward  with  his  feet  widely  asunder,  being 
utterly  unable  for  some  time  to  endure  in  any 
other  position  the  pain  of  that  experience  of 
St  Sebastian's  martyrdom  Avhich  he  had  locally 
suffered. 

His  first  words  to  the  carrier  were,  '*^Man, 
Johnny,  this  is  the  roughest  brute  that  ever  was 
created.  Twa  dyers  wi'  their  beetles  couldna 
hae  done  me  mair  detriment.  I  dinna  think  I'll 
e'er  be  able  to  sit  down  again  !  " 

This  colloquy,  however,  was  speedily  put  an 
end  to  by  the  appearance  of  a  covered  cart,  in 
which  three  ministers  were  returning  from  the 


so 


THE  ENTAIL 


Synod  to  tlicir  respective  parishes  in  Ayrshire, — 
for  at  tliat  time  neither  post-chaise  nor  stage- 
coach was  numbered  amoiiiij  the  hixuries  of 
Glasgow.  One  of  them  hapj)ened  to  be  the 
identical  Mr  Kilfiiddv  of  Braehill  who  had  lee- 
tured  so  learnedly  about  the  temple  of  Diana 
on  the  preceding  Sunday  in  the  Tron  Church, 
and  he,  being  accjuainted  with  Claud,  said,  as  he 
looked  out  and  bade  the  dr.'   er  to  stop, — 

"Dear  me,  Mr  Walkinshaw,  but  ye  hae  gotten 
an  unco  coup  ^  !     I  hope  nae  banes  are  broken  ?  " 

"  No,"  re{)lied  Claud  a  little  pawkily,  '^  no. 
Thanks  be  and  praise — the  banes,  I  believe,  are 
a'  to  tlie  fore —  ;  but  it's  no  to  be  expressed  what 
I  hae  suffer't  in  the  flesh." 

Some  further  conversation  then  ensued,  and 
the  result  was  most  satisfactory  ;  for  Claud  was 
invited  to  take  a  seat  in  the  cart  with  the 
ministers,  and  induced  to  send  his  horse  back  to 
Rob  Wallace  by  Johnny  Di  izen  the  carrier.  Thus, 
without  any  material  augmentation  of  his  cala- 
mity, was  he  conveyed  to  the  gate  which  led  to 
Plealands.  The  laird,  who  had  all  the  morning 
been  anxiously  looking  out  for  him,  on  seeing  the 
cart  approaching,  left  the  house,  and  was  stand- 
ing ready  at  the  yett  -  to  give  him  welcome. 


Coup.    Fall. 


2  Yctt.    Gate. 


Plealan 

of  a  hill.     It 
been  raised  b; 
pied  the  site 
of  which  were 
no  great  skill 
change  the  o 
ornaments,  it 
than  properly 
About  as  1 
altered  from 
too   had    bee 
degree  he  m 
dined  from 
he  still  inhei 
sity  of  their 
of  national 
being   distin 
books  of  se( 
and  of  the  C 
to  his  consta 
rights  and  ii 
In  his  pe 


Tshire,— 
3r  stage- 
juries  of 
be  the 
had  lec- 
f  Diana 
Churchy 
h  as  he 

■  gotten 
iken  ?  " 
y,    ''no. 
eve,  are 
id  what 

^d,  and 
id  was 

h    the 
)ack  to 

Thus, 
5  cala- 
led  to 
orning 
ig  the 
stand- 


1 


CHAPTER   Yl 

PlEALANDS  house  stood  on  the  bleak  brow 
of  a  hill.  It  was  not  of  great  antiquity,  having 
been  raised  by  the  father  of  Malachi ;  but  it  occu- 
pied the  site  of  an  ancient  fortalice,  the  materials 
of  which  were  employed  in  its  construction,  and  as 
no  great  skill  of  the  sculptor  had  been  exerted  to 
change  the  oriijinal  form  of  the  lintels  and  their 
ornaments,  it  had  an  air  of  antiquity  much  greater 
than  properly  belonged  to  its  years. 

About  as  much  as  the  habitation  had  been 
altered  from  its  primitive  character,  the  master 
too  had  been  modernised.  But,  in  whatever 
degree  he  may  have  been  supposed  to  have  de- 
clined from  the  heroic  bearing  of  his  ancestors, 
he  still  inherited,  in  unabated  vigour,  the  animo- 
sity of  their  spirit ;  and  if  the  coercive  influence 
of  national  improvement  prevented  him  from 
;  being  distinguished  in  the  feud  and  foray,  the 
books  of  sederunt,  both  of  the  Glasgow  circuit 
and  of  the  Court  of  Session,  bore  ample  testimony 
to  his  constancy  before  them  in  asserting  supposed 
rights  and  in  vindicating  supposed  wrongs. 

In  his  personal  appearance  Malachi  Hypel  had 


39. 


THE  ENTAIL 


but  few  pretensions  to  the  gallant  air  and  grace 
of  the  gentlemen  of  that  time.  He  was  a  coarse 
hard-favoured,  fresh-coloured  carle,  with  a  few 
white  hairs  thinly  scattered  over  a  round  bald 
head.  His  eyes  were  small  and  grey,  quick  in 
the  glance  and  sharp  in  the  expression.  He 
spoke  thickly  and  hurriedly,  and,  although  his 
words  were  all  very  cogently  strung  together 
there  was  still  an  unaccountable  obscurity  in  the 
precise  meaning  of  what  he  said.  In  his  usual 
style  of  dress  he  was  rude  and  careless,  and  he 
commonly  wore  a  large  flat-brimmed  blue  bonnet 
but  on  the  occasion  when  he  came  to  the  gate  to 
receive  Claud  he  had  on  his  Sunday  suit  and  hat, 

After  the  first  salutations  were  over  he  said  to 
Claud,  on  seeing  him  walking  lamely  and  uneasily, 
"What's  the  matter,  Grippy,  that  ye  seem  sae 
stiff  and  sair  .f*" 

"I  met  wi'  a  bit  accident,"  was  Claud's  reply; 
"  Rob  Wallace,  the  horse-couper,  gied  me  sic  a 
deevil  to  ride  as,  I  believe,  never  man  before 
mounted.  I  wouldna  wish  my  sworn  enemy  a 
greater  ill  than  a  day's  journey  on  that  beast's 
back,  especially  an'  he  was  as  little  used  to  riding 
as  me." 

The  latter  clause  of  the  sentence  was  muttered 
inwardly,  for  the  laird  did  not  hear  it ;  otherwise 
he  would  probably  have  indulged  his  humour  a 
little  at  the  expense  of  his  guest,  as  he  had  a  sort 
of  taste  for  caustic  jocularity,  which  the  hirpling^ 
^  Hirpling.     Limping. 


uKinncr  of  Cl| 
latcd  to  prove 

On    reachii] 
where  the  ho| 
was   emphatic 
cottars,  with 
(luced  to  the] 
pale,  pensive, 
by  the  laird 
not  thoroughl 
a  polite  and 
certainly  was 
business,  and 
any  virgin  pa 
the    contrary, 
freedom  of  an 
It  might  h 
should  descril 
;   and  the  grac 
degree  she  p( 
to  reach  the  ( 
;   in  unsolicited 
\    of  all  the  pre 
\    around  her,  s 
I    impression  oi 
he  himself  c 
I    we   expatiat 
i    manners    an( 
\    themselves, 
ensued. 


THE  ENTAIL 


and  grace 
s  a  coarse 

th  a  fev 
3und   bald 

quick  in 
sion.     H 
lough   his 
together, 
•ity  in  the 
his  usual 
s,  and  he 
B  bonnet ; 
G  gate  to 
and  hat, 
le  said  to 
uneasily, 
seem  sae 


33 


's  reply; 
ne  sic  a  I 

1  before 
Jnemy  a 
'■  beast's 
o  riding 


luttered 
herwise 
mour  a 
d  a  sort 
rpHng  ^ 


■•? 


manner  of  Claud  was  at  the  moment  well  calcu- 
lated to  provoke. 

On  reaching  the  brow  of  the  rising  ground 
wliere  the  house  stood,,  the  leddy,  as  Mrs  Hypel 
was  emphatically  called  by  the  neighbouring 
cottars,  with  Miss  Girzy,  came  out  to  be  intro- 
duced to  their  relative.  Whether  the  leddy — a 
pale,  pensive,  delicate  woman — had  been  informed 
by  the  laird  of  the  object  of  Claud's  visit  we  do 
not  thoroughly  know  ;  but  she  received  him  with 
a  polite  and  friendly  respectfulness.  Miss  Girzy 
certainly  was  in  total  ignorance  of  the  whole 
business,  and  was,  therefore,  not  embarrassed  with 
any  virgin  palpitations  or  blushing  anxieties.  On 
tlie  contrary,  she  met  him  with  the  ease  and 
freedom  of  an  old  acquaintance. 

It  might  here  be  naturally  expected  that  we 
should  describe  the  charms  of  Miss  Girzy 's  person 
and  the  graces  of  her  mind ;  but,  in  whatever 
degree  she  possessed  either,  she  had  been  allowed 
to  reach  the  discreet  years  of  a  Dumbarton  youth 
in  unsolicited  maidenhood.  Indeed,  with  the  aid 
of  all  the  prospective  interest  of  the  inheritance 
around  her,  she  did  not  make  quite  so  tender  an 
impression  on  the  heart  of  her  resolved  lover  as 
he  himself  could  have  wished.  But  why  should 
we  expatiate  on  such  particulars  ?  Let  the 
manners  and  virtues  of  the  family  speak  for 
tliemselves,  while  we  proceed  to  relate  what 
ensued. 

VOL.   I.  C 


CHAPTER    VII 

vTIRZY,"  said  the  laird  to  his  daughter  as  thoy 
entered  the  dining-room,  '^  gae  to  thy  bed  and 
bring  a  cod  ^  for  Mr  Walkinshaw,  for  he'll  no  can 
thole  ^  to  sit  down  on  our  hard  chairs." 

Miss  Girzy  laughed  as  she  retired  to  execute 
the  order,  while  her  mother  continued,  as  she  had 
done  from  the  first  introduction,  to  inspect  Claud 
from  head  to  foot,  with  a  curious  and  something 
of  a  suspicious  eye  ;  there  was  even  an  occasional 
flush  that  gleamed  through  the  habitual  pale- 
ness of  her  thoughtful  countenance,  redder  and 
warmer  than  the  hectic  glow  of  mere  corporeal 
indisposition.  Her  attention,  however,  was  soon 
drawn  to  the  spacious  round  table  in  the  middle 
of  the  room,  by  one  of  the  maids  entering  with 
a  large  pewter  tureen,  John  Drappie,  the  man- 
servant, having  been  that  morning  sent  on  some 
caption  and  horning  ^  business  of  the  laird's  to 
Gabriel  Beagle,  the  Kilmarnock  lawyer.  But,  as 
the  critics  hold  it  indelicate  to  describe  the 
details    of    any     refectionary    supply,     however 

1  Cod  .  .  .  thole.     Pillow  .  .  .  endure. 

*  Ca'ption  and  horning.     See  Note  A.  Sir  Andrew  WvUc 

J4 


tk'j^ant,  we 

series  and  suc| 

crowned  the 

as  ])late.      Oi 

aid  of  their  o^ 

various  forms] 

of  the  sheep 

occasion  werej 

savoury,  sapp] 

hen,   the    floa 

punch-bowl,  j 

supplied  the 

puddings. 

By   the   til 
Girzy  had  re 
herself  placec 
and  patting  it 
"Come  rou 
ye'U  fin'  this 
what  it  is  to 
when  I  gaed 
hanged  at  A 
just  as  if  I  ha 
When  the 
had  retired,  1 
in«r  his  arm 
and  shaking 
"Weel,  G 
see  you   hei 

1(4 


THE  ENTAIL 


',ir> 


r  as  they 

bed  and 

'U  no  can 

)  execute 
s  she  had 
set  Claud 
3methin<j 

ccasional 
Jal  pale- 
Ider  and 
corporeal 
vas  soon 
5  middle 
ng  with 
^e  man- 
on  some 
lird's  to 
Cut,  as 
be  the 
lowever 


tlef]fant,  we  must  not  presume  to  enumerate  the 
st'iit's  and  succession  of  Scottish  fare  which  soon 
crowned  the  board,  all  served  on  pewter  as  bright 
as  })late.  Our  readers  must  endeavour,  by  the 
aid  of  their  own  fancies,  to  form  some  idea  of  the 
various  forms  in  which  the  head  and  harigals  ^ 
of  the  sheep  that  had  been  put  to  death  for  the 
occasion  were  served  up,  not  forgetting  the  sonsy, 
savoury,  sappy  haggis,  together  with  the  gude  fat 
hen,  the  float  whey,  which,  in  a  large  china 
punch-bowl,  graced  the  centre  of  the  table,  and 
supplied  the  place  of  jellies,  tarts,  tartlets,  and 
puddings. 

By  the  time  the  table  was  burdened  Miss 
Girzy  had  returned  with  the  pillow,  which  she 
herself  placed  in  one  of  the  arm-chairs,  shaking 
and  patting  it  into  plumpness,  as  she  said — 

"Come  round  here,  Mr  Walkinshaw.  I  trow 
ye'U  fin'  this  a  saft,  easy  seat.  Weel  do  I  ken 
what  it  is  to  be  saddle-sick  mysel'.  Lordsake ! 
when  I  gaed  in  ahint  my  father  to  see  the  robber 
hanged  at  Ayr,  I  was  for  mair  than  three  days 
just  as  if  I  had  sat  doun  on  a  heckle."  ^ 

When  the  cloth  was  removed  and  the  ladies 
had  retired,  the  laird  opened  his  mind  by  stretch- 
ing his  arm  across  the  table  towards  his  guest, 
and  shaking  him  again  heartily  by  the  hand — 

"Weel,  Grippy,"  said  he,  "but  I'm  blithe  to 
see   you    here ;  and,  if  I'm   no   mista'en,    Girzy 

^  Harigcds.     The  pluck. 

2  HcfLU'.     A  flux-dressing-  comb. 


36  THE  ENTAIL 

will  no  be  ill  to  woo.  Isna  she  a  coothy  ^  «tiul 
kind  creature  ?  She'll  make  you  a  (•a|)ital  witt 
There's  no  anot'  •■:  Uie  parish  that  kens  better 
how  to  manage  uouse.  Man,  it  would  do  your 
heart  gude  to  hear  Iiow  she  rants  among  tlu- 
servan'-lasses — lazy  sluts  that  would  like  nothiiii; 
better  than  to  live  at  heck  and  manger,  and  brin^r 
their  master  to  a  morsel.  But  I  trow  Girzy  gars 
them  keep  a  trig^  house  and  a  birring  wheel." 

"No  doubt,  laird,"  replied  Claud,  "but  it's  a 
comfort  to  hae  a  frugal  woman  for  a  helpmate; 
but  ye  ken  nowadays  it's  no  the  fashion  for 
bare  legs  to  come  thegither.  The  wife  maun  hae 
something  to  put  in  the  pot  as  well  as  the  man ; 
and  although  Miss  Girzy  mayna  be  a'thegither 
objectionable,  yet  it  would  still  be  a  pleasant 
thing,  baith  to  hersel'  and  the  man  that  gets 
her,  an'  ye  would  just  gie  a  bit  inkling  o'  what 
she'll  hae." 

"  Isna  she  my  only  dochter  ?  That's  a  proof 
and  test  that  she'll  get  a'.  Naebody  needs  to 
be  teld  mair." 

"  Vera  true,  laird,"  rejoined  the  suitor ;  "  but 
the  leddy's  life's  in  her  lip,  and  if  onything  were 
happening  to  her,  ye're  a  hale  man,  and  wha 
kens  what  would  be  the  upshot  o'  a  second 
?" 
That's  looking  far  ben,"  replied  the  laird ; 
and  he  presently  added  more  briskly,  *'  My  wife, 

^  Coothii.     Here  used  as  meaning  affectionate. 
2  Trvj.     Orderly. 


marriage 


<( 


[to  be  sure,  is 
that  'ill  traikd 

In  this  del 
tiire  to  a  purj 
iiu)t  to  dwell 
[that,  in  the 
[thereafter,  M 
Leddy  of  (Jr 
her  husband 
tized  by  the  i 

When  the 
hiird,  he  rode 
his  son-in-law 
were  sitting  t 
to  the  fashion 
of  the  garde' 
sound  him  oi 
heart. 

"  Laird,"  sa 

KittlestonheU; 

but  for  the  c 

sending  my  fi 

Darien,  the  hi 

i  should  this  da 

\  put  it  out  o'  t 

I  sic  wastrie  ap 

of  the  Gripp 

I     "  That's  a  y 

1  Gear  that  HI 
i<  very  durable,  an 
^  many  lives  whicl 


f   ,i 
I    f 


THE  ENTAIL 


S7 


to  be  sure,  is  a  frail  woman,  but  she's  no  the  ^ear 
that  'ill  traike."  ^ 

In  this  delicate  and  considerate  way  the  over- 
ture to  a  pur])ose  of  niarriai^e  was  opened  ;  and, 
not  to  dwell  on  particulars,  it  is  suflicient  to  say 
tliat,  in  the  course  of  little  more  than  a  month 
tlicrcafter.  Miss  Girzy  was  translated  into  the 
Leddy  of  Grippy ;  and  in  due  season  presented 
licr  husband  with  a  son  and  heir,  who  was  bap- 
tized by  the  name  of  Charles. 

When  the  birth  was  connnunicated  to  the 
laird,  he  rode  expressly  to  Grippy  to  congratulate 
his  son-in-law  on  the  occasion  ;  and,  when  they 
were  sitting  together  in  the  afternoon,  according 
to  the  fashion  of  the  age,  enjoying  the  contents 
of  the  gardevin  entire,  Claud  warily  began  to 
sound  him  on  a  subject  that  lay  very  near  his 
heart. 

"  Laird,"  said  he,  "  ye  ken  the  Walkinshaws  of 
Kittlestonheugh  are  o'  a  vera  ancient  blood,  and 
but  for  the  doited  prank  o'  my  grandfather,  in 
sending  my  father  on  that  gouk's  errand  to  the 
Darien,  the  hills  are  green  and  the  land  broad  that 
I  should  this  day  hae  been  mine  ;  and,  therefore,  to 
I  put  it  out  o'  the  power  of  posterity  to  play  at  any 

isic  wastrie  again,  I   mean  to  entail  the  property 
of  the  Grippy." 
I     "That's  a  very  good  conceit,"  replied  the  laird, 

^  Gear  that  'ill  traike.  The  saying  is  applied  to  one  who  is 
very  durable,  and  often  to  one  whose  life  is  worth  less  than 
many  lives  which  are  soon  lost. 


38 


THE  ENTAIL 


"  ami  I  hae  rnvsel*  had  a  notion  of  cntailin:j:  the 
Plcnlands  likewise." 

"So  I  hae  heard  you  say,"  rejoin(>d  Claud; 
"and  now  that  the  hairn's  born,  and  a  laddie  tdo, 
we  may  make  ae  work  o't." 

"  VVi'  a'  my  heart,"  rej)licd  the  laird  ;  "nothin; 
can  be  more  a«]freeable  to  me ;  but  as  I  wisli 
to  preserve  the  name  of  my  family,  than  whilk 
there's  no  a  more  respectit  in  Scotland,  I'll  onlv 
covenant  that,  when  Charlie  succeeds  me,  he'li 
take  the  name  o'  Hypel." 

"  Ye  surely,  laird,  would  ne'er  be  so  unreason- 
able," replied  Grippy,  a  little  hastily;  "ye  car 
ne'er  be  sae  unreasonable  as  to  expect  that  the 
lad  would  gie  up  his  father's  name,  the  name  o 
Walkinshaw,  and  take  only  that  of  Hypel." 

"'Deed  would  I,"  said  the  laird;  "for  nn 
haeing  a  son  o*  my  own  to  come  after  me,  it's 
surely  very  natural  that  I  would  like  the  Hypels 
to  kittle  again  in  my  oe  ^  through  my  only 
dochter." 

"The  Walkinshaws,  I  doubt,"  replied  Claud 
emphatically,  "will  ne'er  consent  to  sic  an  eclipse 
as  that." 

"The  lands  of  Plealands,"  retorted  the  laird, 
"are  worth  something." 

"  So  it  was  thought,  or  I  doubt  the  heir  o't 
wouldna  hae  been  a  Walkinshaw,"  replied  Claude 
still  more  pertinaciously. 

"  Weel,   weel,"    said   the   laird,   "dinna  let   us 

1  Kittle  .  .  .  ue.     Generate  .  .  .  grandson. 


1'llE   ENTAIL 


39 


itailiii'r  then  arj^ol-bar^ol  about  it.     Entail  your  own  propiTty 


H'd    Claud: 

laddie  l(„ 

;  "nothiiij 

J 

as   I   Mi  si; 

;is 


han  wliii:, 
d,  I'll  only 
i  me,  he'Ii 


unreason- 
;  ''ye  car. 
t  that  the 
e  name  o 
el." 

"for  no 
r  me,  it's 
le  Hypels 

my   onlv 


ed    Claud 
an  eclipse 

the  laird,' 

;  heir  o'trl 
3d  Claud, 

la  let   us 

on. 


ye 


■\vi 


11, 


ni 


ine    shall    he  on   the    second    son 


vc  can  ne'er  object  to  that." 

"Second  son,  and  the  first  scarce  sax  days 
auld  !  I  tell  you  what  it  is,  an'  ye'U  no  make 
the  entail  or  the  first,  that  is,  on  Charlie  W'alkin- 
shaw, — to  be  Walkinshaw,  mind  that, — I'll  no 
say  what  may  happen  in  the  way  o'  second 
sons." 

"The  Plealands'  mv  ain,  and  thou£rh  I  canna 
weel  will  it  awa',  and  ne'er  will  sell't,  yet,  get 
it  wha  will,  he  maun  tak  the  name  o'  Hypel. 
The  thing's  sae  settled,  CJrippy,  and  it's  no  for 
you  and  me  to  cast  out  about  it." 

Claud  made  seyeral  attem})ts  to  reyive  the 
subject,  and  to  persuade  the  laird  to  change  his 
mind  ;  but  he  was  inflexible.  Still,  however,  being 
resolved,  as  far  as  in  him  lay,  to  anticipate  the 
indiscretion  of  his  heirs,  he  executed  a  deed  of 
entail  on  Charles  ;  and  for  a  considerable  time 
after,  the  laird  was  not  a  little  confirmed  in  his 
determination  not  to  execute  any  deed  in  favour 
of  Charles,  but  to  reserve  his  lands  for  the  second 
son,  by  the  very  reason  that  might  have  led  an- 
other sort  of  person  to  act  differently — namely, 
that  he  understood  there  was  no  jjrospect  of  any 
such  appearing. 

Towards  the  end,  however,  of  the  third  year 
after  the  birth  of  Charles,  Claud  communicated  to 
the  laird  that,  by  some  unaccountable  disj)ensa- 
tion,  Mrs  Walkinshaw  was  again  in  the  way  to  be 


40 


THE  ENTAIL 


a  mother,  adding,  '^Noo,  laird,  yc'll  hae  your  ain 
way  o't ; "  and  accordinirly,  as  soon  as  Walter,  the 
second  son,  was  born  and  baptized,  tlic  lands  of 
Plealands  were  entailed  on  him,  on  condition,  as 
his  grandfather  intended,  that  he  should  assume 
the  name  of  Hypel. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

1^  OR  several  years  after  the  birth  of  Walter  no 
event  of  any  consequence  happened  in  the  affairs 
(f  Claud.  He  continued  to  persevere  in  the  j)ar- 
sinionious  system  which  had  so  far  advanced  his 
fortune.  His  vi^ife  was  no  less  industrious  on  her 
part ;  for,  in  the  meantime,  she  presented  him 
witli  a  daughter  and  another  son,  and  had  reared 
calves  and  grumphies  innumerable,  the  profit  of 
which,  as  she  often  said,  was  as  good  as  the 
meal  and  malt  o'  the  family.  By  their  united 
care  and  endeavours,  Grippy  thus  became  one  of 
the  wealthiest  men  of  that  age  in  Glasgow  ;  but 
although  different  desirable  opportunities  pre- 
sented themselves  for  investing  his  money  in 
other  and  more  valuable  land,  he  kept  it  ever 
ready  to  redeem  any  portion  of  his  ancestral  estate 
that  might  be  offered  for  sale. 

The  satisfaction  which  he  enjoyed  from  his 
accumulative  prospects  was  not,  liowever,  without 
a  mixture  of  that  anxiety  with  wiiich  the  cup 
of  human  prosperity,  whether  really  full  or  only 
foaming,  is  always  embittered.  The  laird,  his 
father-in-law,    in  the   deed   of  entail    which   he 

41 


42 


THE  ENTAIL 


executed  of  the  Plealands,  had  reserved  to  liiin- 
self  a  power  of  revocation,  in  the  event  of  his 
wife  dying  before  him  in  the  first  instance,  and 
of  Walter  and  George,  the  two  younger  sons  of 
Grippy,  either  dying  under  age  or  refusing  to 
take  the  name  of  Hypel,  in  the  second.  This 
power,  both  under  the  circumstances  and  in 
itself,  was  perfectly  reasonable  ;  and  perhaps  it 
was  the  more  vexatious  to  the  meditations  of 
Claud  that  it  happened  to  be  so.  For  he  often 
said  to  his  wife,  as  they  sat  of  an  evening  by  the 
fireside  in  the  dark — for,  as  the  leddy  was  no 
seamstress  and  he  had  as  little  taste  for  litera- 
ture, of  course,  they  burned  no  candles  when  by 
themselves,  and  that  was  almost  every  night, — "  I 
marvel,  Girzy,  what  could  gar  your  father  put 
that  most  unsafe  claw  in  his  entail.  I  wouldna 
be  surprised  if  out  o'  it  were  to  come  a  mean  of 
taking  the  property  entirely  frae  us.  For  ye  see, 
if  your  mither  was  dead — and,  poor  woman,  she 
has  lang  been  in  a  feckless  ^  way — there's  no 
doubt  but  your  father  would  marry  again  ;  and, 
married  again,  there  can  be  as  little  doubt  that 
he  ■•yould  hae  childer ;  so  what  then  would  be- 
come o'  ours  ?  " 

To  this  the  worthy  leddy  of  Grippy  would  as 
feelingly  reply — 

"  I'm  thinking,  gudeman,  that  ye  needna  tak 
the  anxieties  sae  muckle  to  heart ;  for,  although 
my  mither  has  been,  past  the  memory  o'  man,  in 

1  Feckless.     Frail. 


a  complain 
this  many 
it  makes  h^ 
mair  confid 
than  in  m; 
ourselves 
o'  the  deatl 
''But  tlj 
other  claw  I 
noo,  that  t 
when  we 
like  nature 
the  hands  < 
hardest  th 
for  Charlie 
of  a  cabbii 
quest  ?     Bi 
spare  Watt 
a  braw  pr 
creature  t 
1      he  lives  t 
;      l^iil  to  tak( 
i  '<  I  won 

the  leddy 
I'm  sure 
ither  bail 
lilting  lik 
to  night, 
farm,  riv 


THE  ENTAIL 


43 


ed  to  liimJ 
i^ent  of  his  I 
stance,  and , 
^er  sons  of 
•efusing  to 
5nd.     Tliis 
s    and    in 
perhaps  it 
itations  of 
[•  he  often 
ng  by  the 
y  was  no 
for  litera- 
when  by 
ight,— "I 
ther  put 
wouldna 
mean  of 
>r  ye  see, 
man,  she 
ere's   no 
in ;  and, 
ubt  that 
3uld  be- 


a  complaining  condition,  I  ken  nae  odds  o'  her 
this  many  a  year.  Her  ail's  like  water  to  leather  : 
it  makes  her  life  the  tougher  ;  and  I  would  put 
niair  confidence  in  the  durability  of  her  com})laint 
than  in  my  father's  health.  So  we  needna  fash 
ourselves  wi'  controverting  anent  what  may  come 
o'  the  death  o'  either  the  tane  or  the  tither." 

"  But  then,"  replied  Claud,  '^  ye  forget  the 
other  claw  about  Watty  and  Geordie.  Supposing, 
noo,  that  they  were  baith  dead  and  gone,  which, 
when  we  think  o'  the  frush  green-kail  custock- 
like  nature  ■  of  bairns,  is  no  an  impossibility  in 
the  hands  of  their  Maker — will  it  no  be  the  most 
hardest  thing  that  ever  was  seen  in  the  world 
for  Charlie  no  to  inherit  the  breadth  o*  the  blade 
of  a  cabbage  o'  a'  his  father's  matrimonial  con- 
(juest  ?  But  even  should  it  please  the  Lord  to 
spare  Watty,  is't  no  an  afflicting  thing  to  see  sic 
a  braw  property  as  the  Plealands  destined  to  a 
creature  that  I  am  sure  his  brother  Geordie,  if 
he  lives  to  come  to  years  o'  discretion,  will  no 
fail  to  take  the  law  o'  for  a  haverel  ?  " 

"  I  won'er  to  hear  you,  gudeman,"  exclaimed 
the  leddy,  "aye  mislikening  Watty  at  that  gait. 
I'm  sure  he's  as  muckle  your  ain  as  ony  o'  the 
ither  bairns ;  and  he's  a  weel-tempered  laddie, 
lilting  like  a  linty  at  the  door-cheek  frae  morning 
to  night,  when  Charlie's  rampauging  -  about  tlie 
farm,  riving  his  claes  on  bush  and   brier  a'   the 


1  As  fresh  (brittle)  as  the  pith  of  colewort. 
^  llampauijiiiij.     Konipmg. 


44 


THE  ENTAIL 


summer,  tormenting  the  birds  and  mawkins  out 
o'  their  vera  Hfe." 

"Singing,  Girzy  !  I'm  really  distressed  to  hear 
you/'  replied  the  father,  "  to  ca'  yon  singing ;  it's 
nothing  but  lal,  ial,  lal,  lal,  \vi'  a  bow  and  a  bend, 
backwards  and  forwards,  as  if  the  creature  hadna 
the  gumshion  ^  o'  the  cuckoo,  the  whilk  has  a 
note  mair  in  its  sang,  although  it  has  but  twa." 

"  It's  an  innocent  sang  for  a'  that ;  and  I  wish 
his  brothers  may  ne'er  do  waur  than  sing  the  like 
o't.  But  ye  just  hae  a  spite  at  the  bairn,  gude- 
man,  'cause  my  father  has  made  him  the  heir  to 
the  Plealands.  That's  the  gospel  truth  o'  your 
being  so  fain  to  gar  folk  trow  ^  that  my  Watty's 
daft." 

"  Ye're  daft,  gudewife  ;  arena  we  speaking  here 
in  a  rational  manner  anent  the  concerns  o'  our 
family  ?  It  would  be  a  sair  heart  to  me  to  think 
that  Watty,  or  any  o'  my  bairns,  werena  like  the 
lave  o'  ^  the  warld  ;  but,  ye  ken,  there  are  degrees 
o*  capacity,  Girzy,  and  Watty's,  poor  callan,  we 
maun  alloo  between  oursels,  has  been  meted  by 
a  sma'  measure." 

"  Weel,  if  ever  I  heard  the  like  o'  that !  If  the 
Lord  has  dealt  the  brains  o'  our  family  in  mutch- 
kins  and  chapins,^  it's  my  opinion  that  Watty  got 
his  in  the  biggest  stoup ;  for  he's  further  on  in 

^  Gumshion.     Sense. 

(kir  folk  trow.     Cause  people  believe. 
3  The  lave  o'.     The  rest  of. 
■*  Lic^uid  measures,  Scots. 


I 


every  sort  (1 
his  questioJ 
■  What  is  fo| 
And  I   ne'( 
beyond  '  ^^ 
no  deny,  h( 
but  that  a'l 
being  so  v^ 

*' That's 
me,"  replie 
onything  b 
a  book,  for 
him,  and  ht 
But  it's  sor 
:    father  wouj 
make  awayj 
punished  in 
"Gude  ^ 
bairn?"  exc 
the  man's  f 
'^     to  speak  o' 
than  a  stirl 
wrang  my 
body;  so, 
"  Girzy, 
"  Guder 
"Weel, 
the  benef 
Claud;  "i 
one  anoth 

1  Frii.     ^ 


THE  ENTAIL 


45 


^k 


ms  out 


(I  to  Iiear 
,nnir;  it's 
1  a  bend, 
re  liadna 
Ik  has  a 

twa." 
J  I  wisli 

the  like 
n,  gude- 
■  heir  to 

o'  your 
Watty's 

ng  here 
o'  our 
5  think 
ike  the 
legrees 
an,  we 
ted  by 

If  the 
lutch- 
tygot 


« 


every  sort  of  education  than  Ciiarlie,  and  can  say 
his  questions  without  missing  a  word,  as  far  as 
•  What  is  forbidden  in  the  tentli  commandment  ? ' 
And  I  ne'er  hae  been  able  to  get  his  brother 
beyond  '  What  is  effectual  calling  ?  '  Though,  I'll 
no  deny,  he's  better  at  the  Mother's  Carritches ; 
but  that  a'  comes  o'  the  questions  and  answers 
being  so  vera  short." 

*' That's  the  vera  thing,  Girzy,  that  disturbs 
me,"  replied  the  father ;  ''  for  the  callan  can  get 
onything  by  heart,  but,  after  all,  he's  just  like 
a  book,  for  everything  he  ^uirns  is  dead  within 
him,  and  he's  ne'er  a  prin's  worth  the  wiser  o't. 
But  it's  some  satisfaction  to  me  that,  since  your 
father  would  be  so  unreasonably  obstinate  as  to 
make  away  the  Plealands  past  Charlie,  he'll  be 
punished  in  the  gouk  he's  chosen  for  heir." 

"  Gude  guide  us  !  Isna  that  gouk  your  ain 
bairn?"  exclaimed  the  indignant  mother.  "  Surely 
the  man's  fey  ^  about  his  entails  and  his  properties, 
to  speak  o'  the  illess  laddie,  as  if  it  were  no  better 
than  a  stirk  or  a  stot.  Ye'll  no  hae  the  power  to 
wrang  my  wean  while  the  breath  o'  life's  in  my 
body ;  so,  I  redde  ye,  tak  tent  to  what  ye  try." 

"Girzy,  t'ou  has  a  head,  and  so  has  a  nail." 

Gudeman,  ye  hae  a  tongue,  and  so  has  a  bell." 

Weel,  weel,  but  what  I  was  saying  a'  concerns 

the  benefit  and   advantage   o'   our   family,"    said 

Claud ;  "  and  ye  ken,  as  it  is  our  duty  to  live  for 

one  another,  and  to  draw  a'  thegither,  it  behr)ves 

^  Frii.     Mild,  with  a  madness  prophetic  of  an  early  deatli. 


(( I 


(C 


4() 


THE  ENTAIL 


us  twa,  as  parents,  to  see  that  ilk  is  properly 
yokit ;  ^  sin'  it  would  surely  l)e  a  «>reat  misfortunt 
if,  after  a'  our  frugality  and  gathering,  the  cart 
were  cowpit  in  the  dirt  at  last  by  ony  neglect  on 
our  part." 

"That's  aye  what  ye  say,"  replied  the  lady, — 
"a's  for  the  family,  and  nothing  for  the  'dividual 
bairns.  Noo,  that's  what  I  can  never  understand, 
for  isna  our  family  Charlie,  Watty,  Geordie,  and 
Meg— } " 

"  My  family,"  said  Claud  emphatically,  "was  the 
Walkinshaws  of  Kittlestonheugh  ;  and  let  me  tell 
you,  Girzy  Hypel,  if  it  hadna  been  on  their  account, 
there  would  ne'er  hae  been  a  Charlie  nor  a  Watty 
either  between  you  and  me  to  plea  about." 

"  I'm  no  denying  your  parentage — I  ne'er  said 
a  light  word  about  it ;  but  I  canna  comprehend 
how  it  is  that  ye  would  mak  step-bairns  o'  your 
ain  blithesome  childer  on  account  o*  a  wheen  auld 
dead  patriarchs  that  hae  been  rotten,  for  aught  I 
ken  to  the  contrary,  since  before  Abraham  begat 
Isaac." 

"  Haud  thy  tongue,  woman,  baud  thy  tongue  ! 
It's  a  thrashing  o'  the  water  and  a  raising  o' 
bells  to  speak  to  ane  o*  thy  capacity  on  things 
so  far  aboon  thy  understanding.  Gae  but  the 
house,2  and  see  gin  the  supper's  ready." 


In    this 

Grippy  an^^l 
their  naturj 
rupture  tha 
cominarid, 
mission,  du| 
bickering 


1  Ynkit.     Yoked. 

2  lint  the  house.  The  kitchen.  In  cottages  in  Scotland  as 
a  rule  there  wore  two  rooms  only  :  the  "  but"  (the  outer)  and 
the  "  ben  "  (the  inner). 


THK  ENTAIL 


47 


5  properlv 
"nisfortuiK 
,  the  cart 
leglect  on 

e  lady,— 

'dividual 

derstand^ 

rdie,  and 


In  this  manner  the  conversations  between 
Grippy  and  his  leddy  were  usually  conducted  to 
their  natural  issue,  a  quarrel,  which  ended  in  a 
•  rupture  that  was  only  healed  by  a  j)eremptory 
command,  which  sent  her  uu  some  household 
mission,  during  the  performance  of  which  the 
bickering  was  forgotten. 


e( 


was  the 
t  me  tell 
account, 
a  Watty 


e'er  said 
preliend 
o'  your 
;en  auld 
aught  I 
n  begat 

ongue  ! 

sing  o' 

things 

•ut  the 


tland  as 
ter)  and 


"^^P" 


'^.-  ':;*»'«<■ 


CHAPTER   IX 

JLN  the  meantime  as  much  friendhness  and 
intercourse  "was  maintained  between  the  famihes 
(  "  Grippy  and  Plealands  as  could  reasonably  be 
expe^cted  from  the  characters  and  dispositions  of 
the  respective  inmates.  Shortly,  however,  after 
the  conversation  related  in  the  preceding  chapter 
had  taken  place,  it  happened  that,  as  Malachi 
was  returning  on  horseback  from  Glasgow,  when 
he  had  lost  a  lawsuit,  long  prosecuted  with  tlic 
most  relentless  pertinacity  against  one  of  his 
tenants,  he  was  overtaken  on  the  Mearns  Moor 
by  one  of  those  sudden  squalls  and  showers  which 
the  genius  of  the  j)lace  so  often  raises,  no  doubt 
purposely  to  conceal  from  the  weary  traveller 
the  dreariness  of  the  view  around ;  and  being 
wetted  into  the  skin,  the  cold  which  he  caught 
in  consequence,  and  the  irritation  of  his  mind, 
brought  on  a  fever  that  terminated  fatally  on 
the  fifth  day. 

His  funeral  was  conducted  according  to  the 
fashion  f  f  the  age ;  ^  but  the  day  appointed  was 
raw,  windy,  and  sleety, — not,  however,  so  much 

^  See  Note  A,  Annals  of  the  Fairish. 

48 


|so  as   to   pi 
from  flocking 
bl;i,i;e  that  a| 
be  iniagined| 
attendance 
jrentry  were 
every  room 
aiul  deals  fori 
the  tenantr^i 
clanjamphry 
—assembled 
The  laird 
and    free    ho 
acquaintance 
nor   want    at 
services    of    i 
niiests  was   i 
and  tobacco- 
adulterated  b 
were  distribii 
_  tliose  in  the  1 
;     Mr  Kill  lid 
j  to    the    gent 
elders,  in  lik 
in  the  other 
venture    to    ; 
company  out 
l)odleton,   h; 
•  he  did  hims 
produced    ai 

VOL.    I. 


less  and 
2  families 
nably  be 
sitions  of 
'er,  after 
^  chapter 
Malacln 
Wj  where 
ivith  tile 
:  of  his 
ns  Moor 
rs  whieli 

0  doubt 
raveller 

1  bein^ 
caught 

mind, 
ally  on 

to  the 
ed  was 
>  niueli 


THE   ENTAIL 


49 


so  ns   to   prevent   the    friends   of  the    deceased 
from  flocking  in  from  every  quarter.     The  assem- 

jbl.ige  that  arrived  far  transcended  all  that  can 
be  imagined,  in  these  economical  days,  of  the 
attendance  requisite  on  any  such  occasion.  The 
•rcntry  were  shown  into  the  dining-room,  and  into 

1  every  room  that  could  be  fitted  up  with  planks 
and  deals  for  their  reception.  The  barn  received 
tlie  tenantry,  and  a  vast  nudtitude — the  whole 
(•lMiijam})hry  ^  from  all  the  neighbouring  parishes 
— assembled  on  the  green  in  front  of  the  house. 

The  laird  in  his  lifetime  maintained  a  r  .igh 
and  free  hospitality ;  and,  as  his  kindred  ai  i 
acquaintance  expected,  there  was  neither  ncnnt 
nor  want  at  his  burial.  The  profusion  of  the 
services  of  seedcake  and  Avine  to  th(^  indoor 
<inests  was  in  the  liberalest  spirit  of  t.  .  time; 
and  tobacco-pipes,  shortbread,  and  brandy,  un- 
adulterated by  any  immersion  of  the  ganger's  rod, 
wvYC  distributed  with  unmeasured  abundance  to 
those  in  the  barn  and  cm  the  green. 

Mr  Killiiddy,  the  parish  minister,  said  grace 
to  the  gentry  in  the  dining-room ;  and  the 
elders,  in  like  manner,  performed  a  similar  part 
in  the  other  rooms.  We  arc  not  sure  if  we  may 
venture  to  assert  that  gr;ice  Avas  said  to  the 
coinpan}'  out  of  doors.  Mr  Taws,  the  dominie  of 
Bodleton,  has  indeed  repeatedly  declared  that 
he  did  himself  ask  a  blessing;  but  he  has  never 
1  produced    any    other    evidence    that    was    satis- 

^  Clnnjamphry.     Crew, 
vol..  I.  D 


50 


THE  ENTAIL 


factory  to  us.  Indeed,  ^liat  with  the  drinkinrr^ 
the  blast,  and  the  sleet,  it  was  not  reasonable 
to  expect  that  much  attention  would  be  paid  to 
any  prayer ;  and,  therefore,  we  shall  not  insist 
very  particularly  on  this  point. 

The  Braehill  churchyard  was  at  a  considerable 
distance  from  Plealands  House,  and  hearses  nut 
being  then  in  fashion  in  that  part  of  the  country, 
one  of  the  biird's  own  carts  was  drawn  out,  and  the 
coffin  placed  on  it  for  conveyance,  while  the  services 
were  going  round  the  conijjany.  How  it  hap- 
pened— whether  owing  to  the  neglect  of  Thomas 
Cabinet,  the  wright,  who  acted  the  part  of  under- 
taker, and  had,  with  all  his  men,  more  to  attend 
to  than  he  could  well  manage  in  supplying  the 
multitude  with  refreshments,  or  whether  John 
Drappie,  the  old  servant  that  was  to  drive  the 
cart,  had,  like  many  others,  got  a  service  over- 
much,— we  need  not  pause  to  inquire  : — it,  how- 
ever, so  happened  that,  by  some  unaccountable 
and  never- explained  circumstance,  the  whole 
body  of  the  assembled  guests  arranged  them- 
selves in  funereal  array  as  well  and  as  steadily 
as  the  generality  of  them  could,  and  proceeded 
towards  the  churchyard,  those  in  the  van  believ- 
ing that  the  cart  with  the  coffin  was  behind, 
and  their  followers  in  the  rear  committing  a 
similar  mistake,  by  supposing  that  it  was  before 
them  in  front.  Thus  both  parties,  in  ignorance 
of  the  simple  fact  that  the  coffin  and  cart  were 
still  standing  at  the  house-door,  proceeded,  with 


as  much  gt 
churchyard 
jreiitlcmen 
left,    to    opj 
hroui^dit    u|j 
also,  that  til 
tiie  intenHe] 
as  ])ossible. 
By  this  i\ 
the  morn  in 
quite  tempe 
and  hedges 
a  blinding 
pany  reach( 
them  were  ^ 
another  serv 
round  on  th 
ber  liberalb 
'   soon  rendcn 
}   wind  as  whc 
;   when  the  p 
I   Thomas  Cal 
I   with  the  col 
I   towards  the 
I   of  less  deco 
I   Nay,  there 
I    than  two  or 
I    selves,   perl 
blast,    eith€ 
accord  on 
wind. 


THE  ENTAIL 


51 


!  drinkiiu', 

reasonahlf 

l)e  paid  to 

not  insist 

insidera])lt' 

earses  not 

e  country, 

it,  and  tlu; 

be  services 

w  it   Iiap. 

if  Thomas 

of  undcr- 

to  attend 

•lying  the 

her   John 

drive  the 

ice  over- 

-it,  hoM- 

ountahle 

lie    whole  I 

d    them-  | 

steadily 

roceeded 

n  beHev- 

behind, 

itting  a  P 

s  before    I 

;;norance 

irt  were 

dd,  with 


as  much  gravity  and  decorum  as  possibh*,  to  the 
c'liurchyard  gate,  wiiere  they  halted.  As  the 
(rciitlcmen  in  front  fell  back  to  the  right  and 
kit,  to  open  an  avenue  for  the  bod}'  to  be 
l)r()Ught  up,  tlie  omission  was  discovered,  and, 
also,  that  there  was  no  other  way  of  })erforming 
the  interment  but  by  returning,  as  expeditiously 
as  possible,  to  the  house  for  the  body. 

By  this  time  the  weather,  which  had  been  all 
the  morning  cold  and  blustering,  was  become 
quite  temj)estuous.  The  wind  raved  in  the  trees 
and  hedges ;  the  sleet  was  almost  thickened  into 
a  blinding  snow,  insomuch  that  when  the  com- 
pany reached  the  house  the  greater  number  of 
them  were  so  chilled  that  they  stood  in  need  of 
another  service,  and  another  was  of  course  handed 
round  on  the  green, — of  which  the  greater  num- 
her  liberally  and  freely  partaking,  they  were 
soon  rendered  as  little  able  to  wrestle  against  the 
wind  as  when  they  originally  set  out.  However, 
when  the  procession  was  formed  a  second  time, 
Thomas  Cabinet  taking  care  to  send  the  cart 
with  the  cofHn  on  before,  the  whole  moved  again 
towards  the  churchyard,  it  is  said,  with  a  degree 
of  less  decorum  than  in  their  former  procession. 
Nay,  there  is  no  disguising  the  fact  that  more 
than  two  or  three  of  the  company,  finding  them- 
selves, perhaps,  unable  to  struggle  against  the 
blast,  either  lay  down  of  their  own  voluntary 
accord  on  the  road  or  were  blown  over  by  the 
wind. 


THE  ENTAIL 


When  the  procession  liarl  a  second  time  reached 
the  churciiyard,  and  ^rhomas  Cabinet,  perspiring 
at  every  pore,  was  wipin/if  his  bald  liead  with  liis 
coat-sleeve,  his  men  got  the  coffin  removed  from 
the  cart  and  placed  on  the  spokes,  and  the 
relatives,  according  to  their  respective  degrees 
of  propinquity,  arranged  themselves  to  carry  it. 
The  bearers,  however,  either  by  means  of  the 
headstones  and  the  graves  over  which  their  patii 
lay  or  by  some  other  cause,  walked  so  unevenly 
that  those  on  the  one  side  pushed  against  their 
corresponding  kindred  on  the  other  in  such  a 
manner  that  the  coffin  was  borne  rollingly  alon<^ 
for  some  time,  but  without  any  accident,  till  the 
relations  on  the  right  side  gave  a  tremendous 
lurch,  in  which  they  drew  the  spokes  out  of  the 
hands  of  the  mourners  on  the  left,  and  the 
whole  pageant  fell  with  a  dreadful  surge  to  the 
ground. 

This  accident,  however,  was  soon  rectified ; 
the  neighbours,  who  were  not  bearers,  assisted 
the  fallen  to  rise,  and  Thomas  Cabinet,  with  his 
men,  carried  the  coffin  to  its  place  of  rest,  and 
having  laid  it  on  the  two  planks  which  were 
stretched  across  the  grave,  assembled  the  nearest 
kin  around,  and  gave  the  cords  into  their  hands, 
that  they  might  lower  the  laird  into  his  last  bed. 
The  betheral  and  his  assistant  then  drew  out  the 
planks,  and  the  sudden  jerk  of  the  coffin,  when 
they  were  removed,  gave  such  a  tug  to  those  who 
had  hold  of  the  cords  that  it  pulled  them  down, 


head  forenj 
iiately,  ho\j 
i„r,  by  dini 
spot,  the  lij 
ti)  rctiirn  t( 
and  as  \\ix\n 


THE  ENTAIL 


53 


le  reached 
rierspiriinr 

I  with  his 
►ved  from 

and  the 
!   decrees 

carry  it. 
s  of  the 
heir  path 

uneven  h' 
nst  their 
1  such  a 
lly  alon<r 
,  till  the 
mendous 
It  of  the 
and  the 
e  to  the 


head  foremost,  into  the  p^rave  after  it.  Fortu- 
ii.itely,  however,  none  were  buried  but  the  Ixuly  ; 
for,  by  dint  of  the  best  assistance  available  on  the 
sj)()t,  the  livin«r  were  raised,  and  thereby  enabled 
to  retiu-n  to  their  respective  homes,  all  as  jocose 
and  as  haj)j)y  as  possible. 


ectified ; 

assisted 
with  his 
est,  and 
'h  were 

nearest 
•  hands, 
ist  bed. 
out  the 
1,  when 
^se  who 
1  down, 


CHAPTER  X 

\JN  examiniiifT  the  laird's  papers  after  the 
funeral,  Mr  Keelevin,  the  father  of  the  cek- 
brated  town-clerk  of  CJudetoun,  the  lawyer  pre- 
sent on  the  occasion,  discovered,  in  reading  over 
the  deed  which  had  been  executed  by  the  de- 
ceased in  favour  of  Walter,  the  second  son  of 
Claud,  that  it  was,  in  some  essential  points,  im- 
perfect as  a  deed  of  entail,  though  in  other  respects 
valid  as  a  testamentary  conveyance.  The  oj)inioii 
of  counsel,  as  in  all  similar  cases,  was  in  conse- 
quence forthwith  taken ;  and  the  susjiicions  of 
Mr  Keelevin  being  confimied,  Walter  was  ad- 
mitted as  heir  to  the  estate,  but  found  under  no 
legal  obligation  to  assume  his  grandfather's  name 
— the  very  obligation  Avhich  the  old  gentleman 
had  been  most  solicitous  to  imj)ose  upon  him. 

How  it  happened  that  the  clause  respecting  so 
important  a  ])()int  should  have  been  so  inaccu- 
rately framed  remains  for  those  gentlemen  of  tlu; 
law,  who  conmiit  such  inadvertences,  to  explain. 
The  discovery  had  tlie  effect  of  inducing  Claud  to 
ap})ly  to  our  old  master,  the  late  Gilbert  Omil 
writer,    to    examine    the    entail   of   the    Grippy, 

54 


which   he  h 
vas  found  ( 
lic.illy,    wht 
liuvers  pro 
almost    be    t 
Misj)ect    tlia 
to  fiituritv, 
There    have 
however,   w 
tiian  this  one 
any    uneasin* 
satisfacti(m   f 
plain  (juestio 
his  })ower  to 
we  recollect 
on  the  o})posi 
coflieil   whicl: 
lier  ninety-se 
for   tlie    purj 
bedstead    an( 
J'dward   slept 
house    after 
the  loval  ant 

• 

the  magistra' 
laurlably  ind< 
not  then  qu 
human  naturt 
fully  taught 
time  soundec 
especially  wh 
it  were,  a  gi 


THE  ENTAIL 


55 


fter  the 
he  cek- 
'yer  prc- 
in^  over 

the  dv- 
1  son  of 
)ints,  ini- 
•  respects 
i  ()j)inion 
n  conse- 

cioiis   of 

was   ad- 

nder  no 
s  name 

ntleman 

lini. 

ctin^^  so 


ri 


niaccii- 
of  tlu' 
ex})laiii. 

laud  to 
t  Omit 
Grippy, 


whicli  he  had  himself  drawn  up;  and  it,  too, 
I  was  found  (h^feetive,  and  easily  to  be  set  aside. 
Kcillv,  when  one  considers  how  much  some 
lawvt'rs  j)r(>fit  by  their  own  mistakes,  one  mi<jjht 
almost  be  tem})ted  to  do  them  the  injustice  to 
suspect  that  they  now  and  then  have  an  eye 
1()  futurity,  and  carve  out  work  for  themselves. 
Ihcre  have  been  discoveries  of  legal  errors, 
liowever,  which  have  occasioned  more  distress 
than  this  one  ;  for,  instead  of  iriving  the  old  man 
aiiv  uneasiness,  he  expressed  the  most  perfect 
satisfa('ti(m  on  being  infomied,  in  answer  to  a 
plain  question  on  the  subject,  that  it  was  still  in 
Ills  })ower  to  disinherit  his  first-born.  Well  do 
wc  recollect  the  scene,  being  seated  at  the  time 
on  the  opposite  side  of  Mr  Omit's  desk,  copying  a 
coriicil  which  Miss  Christiana  Heritage,  then  in 
licr  ninety-second  rear,  was  addini;  to  her  will, 
for  tlie  })urpose  of  devising,  as  heirlooms,  the 
bedstead  and  blankets  in  which  Prince  Charles 
J"-(hvard  slept,  when  he  passed  the  night  in  her 
house  after  having  levied  that  ccmtribution  on 
llie  loyal  and  godly  city  of  Glasgow  for  which 
the  magistracies  and  Council  were  afterwards  so 
laii(lal)ly  indemnified  by  Parliament.  We  were 
not  then  cpiite  so  well  versed  in  the  secrets  of 
human  nature  as  ex})erience  has  since  so  mourn- 
liilly  taught  us ;  and  the  words  of  Claud  at  the 
time  sounded  strangely  and  harshly  in  our  ear, 
especially  when  he  inquired,  M'ith  a  sharp  and,  as 
it  were,  a  greedy  voice,  Whether  it  was  practi- 


.6 


THE  ENTAIL 


cable  to  <Tct  Walter  to  conjoin  with  him  in  ?, 
deed  that  would  unite  his  inheritance  of  Plealand^ 
to  th.';;  (/rippy,  and  thereby  make  a  property  v 
broad  and  good  as  the  ancestral  estate  of  Kittle, 
stonheugh  ? 

"  Ye  ken,  Mr  Omit,"  said  he,  "  how  I  was  (k- 
frauded  (as  a  bodie  may  say)  of  my  patrimony  bv 
my  grandfather  ;  and  now,  since  it  has  pleased 
Providence  to  put  it  in  my  power,  by  joiniiii: 
the  heritage  of  Plealands  and  Grippy,  to  renew 
my  ancestry,  I  would  fain  mak  a  settlement  witlj 
Watty  to  that  effeck." 

Mr  Omit,  with  all  that  calm  and  methodical 
manner  which  a  long  experience  of  those  devices 
of  the  heart  to  which  lawyers  in  good  practice, 
if  at  all  men  of  observation,  generally  attain, 
replied — 

"  Nothing  can  be  done  in  that  way  while 
Walter  is  under  age.  But  certainly,  Avhen  the 
lad  comes  to  majority,  if  he  be  then  so  inch'ned, 
there  is  no  legal  impediment  in  the  way  of  such 
an  arrangement ;  the  matter,  however,  would  re- 
quire to  be  well  considered,  for  it  would  be  an 
unco-like  thing  to  hear  of  a  man  cutting  off  his 
tirst-born  for  no  fault,  but  only  because  he  could 
constitute  a  larger  iidieritance  by  giving  a  pre-  ^ 
ference  to  his  second." 

Whatever  impression  this  admonitory  remark 
made  on  the  mind  of  Claud  at  the  moment, 
nothing  further  took  place  at  that  time  ;  but  he 
thoughtfully  gathered   his  papers  together,  and, 


Hving  them 
-the  ollice  ai] 
^not  a  little 
^v()()(len  coa< 
ocutlcman'sl 
according   t^ 
C'lcland,  wa> 
men,  he  beij 
joiner).      It 
Mrs  Kilfudc 
in  consequei 
the   Plealan 
proper  to  ] 
symy)athy  ai 
she  had  sust 


I   him  in  al 

of  PIcalaiuM 
property  i\ 
;e  of  Kittle- 

V  I  was  (It- 
Ltrimony  1)\| 
las  pleasct 
by  joiiiiii(r 
',  to  reneM 
iment  Mitli 

methodica 
)se  devices 
:1  practice, 

lly   attain, 


THE  ENTAIL  57 

I 

Itvincj  them  up  with  a  striiiij,  walked  away  from 

tlic  olfice  and  returned  to  Cirippy,  where  he  was 
not  a  little  surprised  to  see  Mr  Allen  Dre<i;horn's 
wooden  coach  at  the  door  (the  first  four-wheeled 
gentleman's  carriaire  started  in  Glasgow,  which, 
jiccording  to  the  praiseworthy  liistory  of  Bailie 
Cleland,  was  made  by  Mr  Dreghorn's  own  work- 
men, he  being  a  timber  merchant,  carpenter,  and 
joiner).  It  was  borrowed  for  the  day  by  Mr  and 
Mrs  Kilfuddy,  who  were  then  in  Glasgow,  and, 
in  consequence  of  their  parochial  connection  with 
the  Plealands  family,  had  deemed  it  right  and 
proper  to  pay  the  Leddy  of  Grippy  a  visit  of 
I  sympathy  and  condolence,  on  account  of  the  loss 
she  had  sustained  in  her  father. 


vay  while 
when  tile 
>  inclined, 
iy  of  such 
would  re- 
dd be  an 
ng  off  Ills 
:  he  could 
ig  a  jjre- 


y  remark 

moment, 

i ;  but  he 

lier,  and, 


CHAPTER   XI 

J-  HE  Reverend  Mr  Kilfiiddy  was  a  little,  short, 
erect,  shai'p-l()okin<j^,  brisk-tempered  personage, 
with  a  red  nose,  a  white  powdered  wit^,  and  a  lar^rt 
cocked  hat.  His  lady  was  an  ample,  demur., 
and  solemn  matron,  v;  ho,  in  all  her  fi^estuiis, 
showed  the  most  perfect  consciousness  of  enjoy 
ing  the  supreme  dignity  of  a  minister's  wife  in  a 
country  j)arish. 

According  to  the  Scottish  eti(|uette  of  tliit 
period,  she  was  dressed  for  the  occasion  in 
mourning  ;  but  the  day  being  bleak  and  cold,  siie 
had  assumed  her  winter  mantle  of  green  satin, 
lined  with  grey  rabbit-skin,  and  her  hands, 
ceremoniously  protruded  through  the  loojjhoks 
formed  for  that  ])urpose,  reposed  in  full  conse- 
quentiality  v^'t>;n  the  embraces  of  each  other, 
in  a  large  black  satin  muff  of  her  own  makin<;, 
adorned  with  a  bunch  of  flowers  in  needlework, 
which  she  had  embroidered  some  thirty  years 
before  as  the  last  and  most  perfect  specimen  of 
all  her  accomplishments.  But  although  they 
were  not  so  like  the  blooming  progeny  of  Flor.i 
as  a  Linwood  might,  perhaps,  have  worked,  they 

58 


roQS^'ssed  a 
to  the  floW' 
insomuch  tl| 
niistaking 
cannot  refn| 
tlic  limner 
bleniatic  pi^ 
the    drawinj 
\vhich  the  fl 
so  great  a  vj 
KiU'uddy  in 
the  matron  1 
The   mini 
degree   of  s 
the     mournt 
»  nothing  is 
"This   disp(J 
vouchsafed, 
is  an  came 
in  this  work 
down  by  tl 
for  the  son 
erles  given 
fore,  and  I 
,    sore  shock, 
find  a  i)leas 
father,  wh< 
better    ctrc 
considering 

1  Sir  I 

2  Li]?p 


i 


THE  ENTAIL 


59 


ttle,  sliort, 
persona;r(. 

,  deiiiijiv, 
gestures, 
of  eiijov 

i  wife  ill  a 


of   that 
vision    iti 
cold,  slie 
en  satin, 
r    hands, 
oopholos 
1   conse- 
li   other, 
niakinn-^ 
Uework,  ^ 
y  years 
:iiTien  of 
^h    they 
)f  Flora 
id,  they 


-('js^'ssed  n  very  competent  detrree  of  resemblance 
to  the  riowers  tiiey  were  intendi  d  to  r*.  prcspiit, 
insomuch  that  there  was  really  no  frrcat  risk  of 
mistaking  the  roses  for  lilies.  And  here  we 
cannot  refrain  from  ingeniously  suspecting  that 
tlie  limner  who  designed  those  celebrated  em- 
blematic pictures  of  the  months  which  adorned 
the  drawing-room  of  the  Craiglands,i  and  on 
vhich  the  far-famed  Miss  Mizy  Cunningaam  set 
so  great  a  value,  must  have  had  the  image  of  Mrs 
Kilfuddy  in  his  mind's  eye  when  he  deliiieated 
tl)e  matronly  representative  of  November. 

Tlie  minister,  after  inquiring  with  a  proper 
degree  of  sympathetic  pathos  into  the  slate  of 
the  mourner's  health,  j)iously  observed  that 
''  nothing  is  so  uncertain  as  the  things  of  '•jme." 
"This  dispensation,"  said  he,  "which  has  been 
vouchsafed,  Mrs  Walkinshaw,  to  you  and  yours 
is  an  earnest  of  what  we  have  all  to  look  for 
ill  this  world.  But  we  should  not  be  overly  cast 
down  by  the  like  o't,  but  lippen  ^  to  eternity; 
for  the  sorrows  of  perishable  human  nature  are 
erles  given  to  us  of  joys  hereafter.  I  trust,  there- 
fore, and  hope,  that  you  will  soon  recover  this 
sore  shoek,  and  in  the  cares  of  your  young  family 
Hnd  a  pleasant  jiastime  for  the  loss  of  your  worthy 
fatiier,  who,  I  am  blithe  to  hear,  has  died  in 
better  ctrcumstanct  s  than  eould  be  expected, 
considering    the    trouble    he    has    had    wi'    his 

1  Sir  Andreio  Wijltc,  chap.  Ixxxix.,  vul,  ii.  p.  269. 
^  Lippcn.     Look  with  confidonce. 


60 


THE  EXTATL 


laM"inf]r,  leaving,  as  they  say,  the  estate  clear  o; 
del)t  and  a  heavy  soom  of  lvinj»:  siller," 

*S\Iy  father,  Mr  Kilfuddy,  '  replied  the  la(l\ 
"was,  as  you  well  know,  a  most  worthy  character, 
and  I'll  no  say  hasna  left  a  nest-e<>g,  the  Lord 
be  thankit ;  and  we  maun  comjwse  oursel's  td 
tLole  wi'  what  He  has  been  pleased,  in  Iliv 
gracious  ordinances,  to  send  upon  us  for  th( 
advantage  of  our  poor  sinful  souls.  But  tin 
burial  has  cost  the  gudeman  a  j)ower  o'  money; 
for  my  father  being  the  head  o'  a  family,  ue 
hae  been  obligated  to  put  a'  the  servants,  baith 
here,  at  the  Gri])py,  and  at  the  Plealands,  in 
full  deep  mourning,  and  to  hing  the  front  o' 
the  laft  in  the  kirk,  as  ye'll  see  next  Sabbath,  j 
wi'  very  handsome  black  cloth,  the  whilk  cost 
twentypence  the  ell,  first  cost,  out  o'  the  gude- 
man's  ain  shop.  But,  considering  wha  my  father 
was,  we  could  do  no  less  in  a'  decency." 

*'  And  I  &c«i,"  interfered  the  minister's  wife, 
"  that  ye  hae  gotten  a  bombazeen  o'  the  first 
quality.  Nae  doubt  ye  had  it  likewise  frae  Mr 
Walkinshaw's  own  shop,  which  is  a  great  thing, 
Mrs  VValkinshaw,  for  you  to  get.'* 

"Na,  mem,"  replied  the  mourner;  "ye  dinna 
know  what  a  m"*sfortune  I  hae  met  wi'.  I  was, 
as  ye  ken,  at  the  Plealands  when  my  father  took 
his  departal  to  a  better  world,  and  sent  for  my 
mournings  frae  Glasgow,  antl  frae  the  gudeman, 
as  ye  would  naturally  expeck,  and  I  had  Mally 
Trimmings  in  the  house  ready  to  mak  them  when 


the  box   wo 
,l;iy  o'  delu^ 
i;;il(ly  Slowg 

tliroiii?!^^  '"1 
were  rendei 
WIS,  indeedl 
(v.ited  me  tcl 
the  things 
clean  total 

wilderness   i 
(fiuleman  hn 
sets  o'  mouT 
(ret  frae   my 
w-eli  content 
"  What  y< 
minister,  "  i'J 
the  funeral 
hae  left  muc 
of  lying  mor 
"No,   Mr 
I  Imt   I'll    no 
i  sand." 
I       "  \    brav 
I   spiritual    co 
\  customary  s 

i   ensued  is  i 

I 

I   this  junctu 

came  rumb. 

j       '-Mither, 

*    a  bit  of  ai 


it' 


THE  ENTAIL 


61 


ite  clear  u: 

1  the   ]a(l\ 
Y  cliarac'ter 
,  the  Lord 
oursel's  to 
id,    in    IIi\ 
is    for    th. 
But   th, 
o'  money: 
^amilv,   Me 
'lilts,  baith 
alands^  in 
J    fi-ont   o'  j 
;  Sabbath, 
vhilk  cost 
lie  giulo- 
my  father 

er's  wife, 
the  first 
frae  Mr 

at  thing, 


ithc  l)ox  would  come  ;  ])iit  it  happened  to  be  a 
(l;iy  <)'  (lelii«^e,  so  that  my  whole  conmiodity,  on 
Ij.iUIv  Slow<^aup.'s  cart,  was  drookit  throuijh  and 
through,  and  baith  the  crape  and  bonibazeen 
were  rendered  as  soople  as  pudding-skins.  It 
was,  indeed,  a  sight  ])ast  expression,  and  obli- 
jrated  me  to  send  an  express  to  Kilmarnock  for 
the  things  I  hae  on,  the  outlay  of  whilk  was  a 
clean  total  loss,  besides  being  at  the  dear  rate. 
l)iit,  Mr  Kilfuddy,  everything  in  this  howling 
wilderness  is  ordered  for  the  best  ;  and  if  the 
'riideman  has  been  needcessitated  to  i)av  for  twa 
sets  o'  mournings,  yet,  when  he  gets  what  he'll 
i^ret  frae  my  father's  gear,  he  ought  to  be  very 
well  c(mtent  that  it's  nae  Maur." 

"  What  ye  say,  Mrs  Walkinshaw,"  replied  the 
minister,  "is  very  judicious  ;  for  it  was  spoken  at 
the  funeral  that  your  father,  Plealands,  couldna 
hae  left  muckle  less  than  three  thousand  pounds 
of  lying  money." 

"  No,  Mr  Kilfuddy,  it's  no  just  so  muckle ; 
hut  I'll  no  say  it's  ony  waur  than  twa  thou- 
sand." 

"  A  braw  soom,  a  braw  soom  I "  said  the 
spiritual  comforter; — but  what  further  of  the 
customary  sj)irituality  of  this  occasion  might  have 
ensued  is  matter  of  speculative  opinion  ;  for  at 
this  juncture  Watty,  the  heir  to  the  decey^ed, 
came  rund)ling  into  the  room,  crying — 

"  Mither,  mither  !  Meg  Draiks  v nina  gie  me 
a  hit  of  auld    daddy's    burial    bread,   though  ye 


62 


THE  ENTAIL 


brought  oner  three  f;irls  ^  \vi'  the  sweeties  oii't, 
and  twa  wliaii«;s  as  big  as  peats  o'  the  fine  su^jjar 
seedcake." 

The  eomposity  of  tlie  minister  and  liis  Mjfe 
was  greatly  tried,  as  Mrs  Kilfuddy  herself  often 
afterwards  said,  by  this  "  outstrapolous  intrusion  ; ' 
but  quiet  was  soon  restored  by  Mrs  W'alkinshaw 
ordering  in  the  bread  and  wine,  of  which  Walter 
was  allowed  to  partake.  The  visitors  then  looked 
significantly  at  each  other ;  and  Mrs  Kilfuddy, 
replacing  her  hands  in  her  satin  nuiff,  which, 
during  the  refectionary  treat  from  the  funeral 
relics,  had  been  laid  on  her  knees,  rose  and  said  — 

"  Noo,  1  hope,  Mrs  Walkinshaw,  when  ye  conic 
to  see  the  leddy,  your  mither,  at  the  Plealands 
that  ye'll  no  negleek  to  gie  us  a  ca'  at  the  manse, 
and  ye'll  be  sure  to  bring  the  young  laird  wi'  you, 
for  h(;'s  a  fine  spirity  bairn  —  everybody  maun 
alloo  that." 

"  He's  as  he  came  frae  the  hand  o'  his  Maker," 
replied  Mrs  Walkinshaw,  looking  j)iousiy  towards 
the  minister ;  "  and  it's  a  great  consolation  to 
me  to  think  he's  so  weei  provided  for  by  my 
father." 

"Then  it's  true,"  said  Mr  Kilfuddy,  "that  lie 
gets  a'  the  Plealands  proj)(  rty  ?  " 

"  'Deed  is't,  sir ;  and  a  braw  patrimony  I  trow 
it  will  be  by  the  time  he  arrives  at  the  years  o' 
discretion." 


"That's  H 
i  little  slyly, 
I  more  obvioul 
(lid  not  perc| 
c.ism,  her  at 
to  the  entrai 
ill  thought, 
h.md   as   he| 
desk. 


1  Farh.      Original!}'  ouo  part  of  a  cake  cut  in  four  jxirt: 
before  giving  ;  now  used,  as  here,  for  cakes  genenilly. 


;etie.s  out, 
fine  su«^ar 

i  his  wife 
rself  often 
itrusion  ; ' 
alkinsliaw 
ch  Walter 
en  looked 
Kilfuddy, 
tt\    M-hk'h, 

0  funeral 
nd  said  — 

1  ye  come 
l*lcalan(ls, 
le  manse, 
1  wi'  you, 
dy  inaun 

Xfaker/' 

towards 

lation    to 

by   my 

that  he 

I  trow  L 
years  o' 


THE  ENTAIL 


C)3 


"  That's  a  lan^  look,"  rejoined  the  minister  a 
little  slyly,  for  Walter's  defect  of  capacity  was 
more  obvious  than  his  mother  ima«^ined.  But  she 
(lid  not  perceive  the  point  of  Mr  Kilfuddy's  sar- 
casm, her  attention  at  the  moment  bein^  drawn 
to  the  entrance  of  her  Inisband,  evidently  troubled 
ill  thou<^ht,  and  still  holdin«r  the  pajiers  in  his 
hand  as  he  took  them  away  from  Mr  Omit's 
desk. 


Mir  parte 


CHAPTER    XII 

EXPERIFA'CK  had  t.ui-ht  Mrs  WalkinsliaM,  as 
it  does  most  married  ladies,  that  when  a  husband 
is  in  one  of  his  moody  fits,  the  best  way  of  r( - 
concilin<r  liim  to  the  cause  of  his  vexation  is  to 
let  him  alone,  or,  as  the  })hrase  is,  to  let  him 
come  aii^ain  to  himself  Accord inji^ly,  instead  of 
teasin«T  him  at  the  moment  with  any  iiujuiriis 
about  the  source  of  his  molestation,  she  drew  Mrs 
Kilfuddv  aside,  and  retired  into  another  room, 
leaving  him  in  the  hands  of  the  worthy  divin< , 
who,  sidlin<i^  uj)  to  him,  said — 

"I'm  weel  content  to  observe  the  resigned 
spirit  of  Mrs  Walkinshaw  under  this  heavy  dis- 
pensation ;  and  it  would  be  a  great  thing  to  us  a' 
if  w^e  would  lay  the  chastisement  rightly  to  heart. 
For,  wi'  a'  his  faults,  and  no  mere  man  is  fault- 
less, Plealands  wasna  without  a  seasoning  o'  good 
qualities,  though,  poor  man,  he  had  his  ain  tribu- 
lation in  a  set  of  thrawn-natured  tenants.  But 
he  has  won  away,  as  M'e  a'  hope,  to  that  })leasaiit 
place  where  the  wicked  cease  from  troubling  and 
the  weary  rest  in  peace.  Nae  doubt,  Mr  Walkin- 
shaw it  maun  hae  been  some  sma'  disappointment 

64 


to  vou,  to  fi| 
heir;  but  it 
vliouldna  lct| 
"  No,  be 

nmcid,  as 
thougiit  troi| 
son  Charlie 
to  shove  hill 
an  unco  pit\| 
the  Lord  to 

The  minis 
stand  this,  s.-i 
shaw,  vc'll  ji 
and   though 
lump,  as  ye 
voiir  ain  fami 
"  I'm  no  CO 
1  would  fain 
lor  it'  that  c 
doubt  of  mak 
the  Divethill 
wi'  tlie  (Jrripi 
fathers  ;  for  ] 
lator,  is  frae 
iiiklin'thath( 
if  there  was  ( 
*'  I    canna 
Kilfuddy,    "1 
the  laws  o' 
no   ini})ossibl 

'  Aiiqht.     1 
Vol.  I. 


TIII<:  KNTAIL 


C)! 


I 


iiisliaw,  as 
I  husband 
ray  of  ii  - 
ition  is  to 
)  let  hiin 
nstead  of 

inquiries 
drew  Mrs 
ler  room, 

V  diviiit , 


resigned 

avv  dis- 
to  us  a' 

:o  heart. 

is  fault- 
o'  good 
II  trihii- 
s.      But 


:? 


)h'asaiit 

ing  and 

Walkin- 

intmcnt 


fo  vou,  to  find  tiiat  your  second  son  is  mfidr  the 
heir;  hut  it's  no  an  atllietion  past  remedy,  so  ye 
v-lioiilchia  let  it  fash  you  oner  nuiekle." 

"No,  be  tliankit,"  replied  (laud,  "it's  no  past 
rcnieid,  as  (iibby  Omit  tells  me;  but  I'm  a 
thought  troui)led  anent  the  means,  for  my  auld 
SDH  Charlie's  a  fine  eallan,  and  I  would  grudge 
to  shove  him  out  o'  tlie  line  o'  inheritanee.  It's 
an  uneo  pity,  Mr  Kiltuddy,  that  it  hadna  jjlcascd 
tlic  Lord  to  mak  Watty  like  him." 

The  minister,  who  did   not  very  clearly  und«'r- 

stand  this,  said,  "  A'thing  considered,  Mr  W'alkin- 

;  sliaw,  yell  just  hae  to  let  the  law  tak  its  course; 

land   though   ye    eanna    hae    the    lairdship    in    ae 

lump,  as  ye  aiblins  expeekit,  it's  nevertheless  in 

\(nir  ain  family." 

"  I'm  no  contesting  that,"  rejoined  (Taud  ;  *'  but 
1  would  fain  hae  tjie  twa  niailintcs  in  ae  aught. ^ 
1  or  if  that  could  be    brought   about,    I    woiddna 
(loid)t  of  making  an  exeambio  o'  the  IMralands  for 
I  the  Divethill  and   Kittleston,  the  twa  farms  that 
fwi'  the  (irippy  made  up  the  heritage  o'  my  fore- 
Mathers  ;  for  Mr  Aueliineloss,  the  present  ])ro})ree- 
itor,  is  frae  the  shire  o'  Ayr,  and  I  hae  had  an 
inklin'thathe  wouldna  be  ill  pleased  to  makaswap,^ 
it"  there  was  onv  ])ossibilitv  in  law  to  alloo't." 

'•  I  eanna  say,"  repliL-d  the  Reverend  Mr 
Kill'iiddy,  "that  I  hae  ony  great  knowledge  o' 
i\\c.  laws  o'  man.  I  should,  iiowever,  think  it's 
no   impossible;    but    still,    Mr    Walkinshaw,    ye 


'  Annht.     Possession. 
Vol.  I. 


2  Swap.     Exchange. 
E 


^^ 


^ 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


A 


4is 


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:/ 


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1.0 


I.I 


1.25 


If:  litt 

^   1^ 


M 

2.2 
2.0 


IIIW 

M.  11 1.6 


Photographic 

Sciences 
Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  MS80 

(716)  872-4503 


* 


V 


iV 


^^ 


-  ^ 


^\^\  ^>  '^^  wk\ 


% 


V 


66 


THE  ENTAIL 


would  hae  to  innk  a  reservalioii  for  behoof  of 
your  son  Walter^  as  heir  to  his  grandfather.  It 
would  be  putting  adders  in  the  creel  wi'  tlie 
eggs  if  ye  didna." 

'^TJiat's  tlie  very  fasherie  o'  the  business,  Mr 
Kilfuddy,  for  it  would  be  nae  satisfaction  to  me 
to  leave  a  divided  inheritance ;  and  the  warst  o't 
is,  that  Watty,  haverel  though  it's  like  to  be^ 
is  no  sae  ill  as  to  be  cognos  t  ;  and  what  maks 
the  case  the  mair  kittle,  even  though  he  were 
sae,  liis  younger  brother  Geordie,  by  course  o' 
law  and  nature,  would  still  come  in  for  the 
J'lealands  afore  Charlie.  In  short,  I  see  naethinir 
for't,  Mr  Kilfuddy,  but  to  join  the  Grii)py  in  ae 
settlement  wi'  the  Plealands;  and  I  would  do  sae 
outright,  only  I  dinna  like  on  j.oor  Charlie's 
account.  Do  ye  think  there  is  ony  sin  in  a  man 
setting  aside  his  first-born  ?  Ye  ken  Jacob  was 
alloo't  to  get  the  blessing  and  the  birthright  o' 
his  eldest  brother  Esau." 

Mr  Kilfuddy,  notwithstanding  a  spice  of 
worldly  -  mindedness  in  his  constitution,  was, 
nevertheless,  an  honest  and  j)ious  Presbyterian 
pa "^ tor ;  and  the  quickness  of  his  temper  at  the 
moinent  stirred  him  to  rebuke  the  cold-hearted 
speculations  of  this  sordid  father. 

'^  Mr  Walkinshaw,"  said  he  severely,  "  I  can 
see  no  point  o'  comparison  between  the  case  o' 
your  twa  sons  and  that  o'  Jacob  and  Esau  ;  and 
what's  mair  :  the  very  iealousinjj:  that  there  may 
be  sin  in  what  ye  wish  to  do  is  a  clear  demon- 


stration th 
intent  ind| 
But  to  set 
hae  nae  aj 
tiic  unnati 
born,  out 
estate,  I  sh 
of  our  holl 
porridge,  a] 
that  which 
He  does,  a 
standing  o' 
would  brin< 
fest  course  c 
He  taketh 
I  l)ut  has   H( 
commit  mu 
shaw  !  ye  n: 
ye  maun  wt 
on  the  hip 
he  has  ta'e: 
Hech,  man  '. 
Avhat  a  bor 
end,  when  ] 
upon  your  I 
and  marrov 
gimlets  o'  a 
Claud  sill 
reproving  n 
lielp  the  wi 
dinna  ken  ^ 


l)choof  (if 
athcr.  It 
i\   wi'   tlif 

siness,  Mr 
ion  to  me 
3  warst  o't 
ke  to  be, 
I'liat  maks 
I  he   were 

course  o' 
1  for  the 
u  naethini:^ 
ip})y  in  ae 
iild  do  sae 
'    Charlie's 

in  a  man 
Jacob  was 
th right  o' 

spice  of 
ion,  was, 
sbyterian 
er  at  the 
d-hearted 

\,  "  I  can 

le  case  o' 

Lsau  ;  and 

llicre  may 

demon- 


THE  ENTAIL 


67 


stration  that  it  is  vera  sinful,  for,  oh,  man  !  it's  a  bad 
intent  indeed  that  we   canna  excuse  to  oursel's. 
But  to  set  you  right  in  ae  point,  and  that  ye  may 
iiae  nae  apology  drawn  from  Scrij^tural  acts  for 
tiie  unnatural  in- lination  to  disinherit  your  first- 
born, out  o'  the  prideful  fantasy  of  leaving  a  large 
estate,  I  should  tell  you  that  there  was  a  mystery 
of  our  holy  religion   hidden  in   Jacob's  mess   o' 
porridge,  and  it's  a  profane  thing  to  meddle  with 
that  which  appertaineth  to   the   Lord  ;  for  what 
He  does,  and  what  He  i)ermits,  is  past  the  under- 
standing o'  man,  and  woe  awaits  on  all  those  that 
:  would  bring  aught  to  pass  contrary  to  the  mani- 
I  fest  course  of  His  ordained  method.      For  example, 
I  He  taketh  the  breath  of  life  away  at  His  pleasure  ; 
I  but  has   He   not  commanded  that  no   mrn   shall 
I  commit  murder  ?      Mr  Walkinshaw,   Mr  Walkin- 
*  shaw  !  ye  maun  strive  against  this  sin  of  the  flesh  ; 
I  ve  maun  warsle  wi'  the  devil,  and  hit  him  weel 
I  on  the  hip  till  ye  gar  him  loosen  the  grip  that 
I  lie  has  ta'en  to  draw  you  on  to  sic  an  awful  sin. 
Hech,  man  !  an'  ye're  deluded  on  to  do  this  thing, 
what  a  bonny  sight  it  will  be  to  see  your  latter 
end,  when  Belzebub,  wi'  his  horns,  will  be  sitting 
upon  your  bosom,  boring  through  the  very  joints 
and  marrow  o'   your  poor   soul  wi'   the    red-het 
,u;ini]ets  o'  a  guilty  conscience  !  " 

Claud  shuddered  at  the  picture,  and  taking  the 
reproving  minister  by  the  hand,  said,  ''  We  canna 
lielp  the  wicked  thoughts  that  sometimes  rise,  we 
jdinna  ken  whar  frae,  within  us." 


68 


THE  ENTAIL 


''Ye  dinna  ken  whar  f:'ae  ?  I'll  tell  vou  whar 
frae — frae  hell :  sic  thoughts  are  the  cormorants 
that  sit  on  the  apple-trees  in  the  devil's  kail-yard, 
and  the  souls  o'  the  damned  are  the  carcasses 
they  mak  their  meat  o'." 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,  Mr  Kilfuddy  !  "  exclaimed 
Claud,  trembling  in  every  limb,  ''be  patient,  an 
no  speak  that  gait ;  ye  gar  my  hair  stand  on  end." 

"  Hair !  Oh,  man !  it  would  be  weel  for  you  if 
your  precious  soul  would  stand  on  end,  and  no  only 
on  end,  but  humlet  to  the  dust,  and  that  ye  would 
retire  into  a  corner  and  scrape  the  leprosy  of  sic 
festering  sins  wi'  a  potsherd  o'  the  gospel,  till  ye 
had  cleansed  yourself  for  a  repentance  unto  life." 

These  ghostly  animadversions  may,  perhaps, 
sound  harsh  to  the  polite  ears  of  latter  days,  but 
denunciation  was  at  that  time  an  instrument  of 
reasoning  much  more  effectual  than  persuasion; 
and  the  spiritual  guides  of  the  people,  in  warn- 
ing them  of  the  danger  of  evil  courses,  made 
no  scruple,  on  any  occasion,  to  strengthen  their 
admonitions  with  the  liveliest  imagery  that  reli- 
gion and  enthusiasm  supplied.  Yet,  with  all  the 
powerful  aid  of  such  eloquence,  their  efforts  were 
often  unavailing  ;  and  the  energy  of  Mr  Kilfuddy, 
in  this  instance,  had  perhaps  no  other  effect  than 
to  make  Claud  for  a  time  hesitate,  although, 
before  they  parted,  he  expressed  great  contrition 
for  having,  as  he  said,  yielded  to  the  temptation 
of  thinking  that  he  was  at  liberty  to  settle  his 
estate  on  whom  he  pleased. 


At  the 
Grippy  fai 
sisted    of 
tlie  eldest 
Kilfuddy, 
faced    boy 
much  affe< 
own    boso] 
but     Mrs 
unaccountt 
occasional! 
her  first-b< 
uncouth    1 
earliest  da 
indubitable 
endowed 
herself 
period,     t( 
character ; 
ance  of  a  ( 
calculatinfi 
strated  ho 
and   mind 


1  you  whar 
cormorants 
s  kail-yard, 
e  carcasses 

'  exclaimed 

patient,  an 

id  on  end." 

I  for  you  if 

ind  no  only 

it  ye  would 

)rosy  of  sic 

5pel,  till  ye 

unto  life." 

',   perhaps, 

r  days,  but 

Tument  of 

)ersuasion ; 

!,  in  warn- 

•ses,   made 

then  their 

that  reli- 

th  all  the 

brts  were 

Kilfuddy. 

ffect  than 

although, 

contrition 

emptatioii 

settle  his 


CHAPTER   XIII 

At  the  death  of  the  Laird  of  Plealands,  the 
(Irij)py  family,  as  we  have  already  stated,  con- 
sisted of  three  sons  and  a  daughter.  Charles, 
the  eldest,  was,  as  his  father  intimated  to  Mr 
Kilfuddy,  a  fine,  generous,  open-hearted,  blithe- 
faced  boy.  Towards  him  Claud  cherished  as 
much  affection  as  the  sterile  sensibilities  of  his 
own  bosom  could  entertain  for  any  object ; 
but  Mrs  Walkinshaw,  from  some  of  those 
unaccountable  antipathies  with  which  nature 
occasionally  perplexes  philosophy,  almost  hai:ed 
her  first-born,  and  poured  the  full  flow  of  her 
uncouth  kindness  on  ♦ .  alter,  who,  from  the 
earliest  dawmngs  of  observation,  gave  the  most 
indubitable  and  conclusive  indications  of  being 
endowed  with  as  little  delicacy  and  sense  as 
herself  The  third  son,  George,  was,  at  this 
period,  too  young  ^o  evince  any  peculiar 
character ;  but,  in  after-lif  j,  under  the  appear- 
ance of  a  dull  and  inapt  spirit,  his  indefatigable, 
calculating,  and  persevering  disposition  demon- 
strated how  much  he  had  inherited  of  the  heart 
and   mind    of   his    lather.      The    daughter   was 

69 


70 


THE  ENTAIL 


baptized  Mar^raret,  Avhicli  lier  mother  elegantly 
abbreviated  into  Meg ;  and,  as  the  course  of  our 
narrative  requires  that  we  should  lose  sight  of 
her  for  some  time,  we  may  here  give  a  brief 
epitome  of  her  character.  To  beauty  she  had 
no  particular  pretensions,  ncr  were  her  accom- 
plishments of  the  most  refined  degree  ;  indeed, 
her  chief  merit  consisted  in  an  innate  predilection 
for  thrift  and  household  management.  What 
few  elements  of  education  she  had  acquired 
were  chiefly  derived  from  Jenny  Hirple,  a 
lameter  woman,  who  went  round  c  mon";  the 
houses  of  the  heritors  of  the  parish  with  a  stilt, 
the  sound  of  which,  and  of  her  feet  on  the  floors, 
plainly  pronounced  the  words  ''  One  pound  ten." 
Jenny  gave  lessons  in  reading,  knitting,  and 
needlework,  and  something  that  resembled  writ- 
ing; and  under  her  tuition  Miss  Meg  continued 
till  she  had  reached  the  blooming  period  of 
sixteen,  when  her  father's  heart  was  so  far 
opened  that,  in  consideration  of  the  fortune  he 
found  he  could  then  bestow  with  her  hand,  he 
was  induced  to  send  her  for  three  months  to 
Edinburgh — there,  and  in  that  time,  to  learn 
manners,  ^^and  be  perfited,"  as  her  mother  said, 
'^wi'  a  boarding-school  education." 

But,    to   return   to   Charles,   the  first-born,   to 
whose  history  it  is  requisite  our  attention  should 
at  present  be  directed,  nothing  could  seem  more 
auspicious  than  the  spring  of  his  youth,  notv/ith 
standing   t!ie    lurking    inclination    of    his   father 


were   coi 


THE  ENTAIL 


1 


ir  elegantly 
)ur.se  of  our 
se   sight  of 
ive    a    brief 
ty  she  had 
her  aecom- 
!e  ;    indeed. 
Dredilection 
nt.      What 
I    acquired 
Hirple,    a 
mong   the 
vith  a  stilt, 
I  the  floors, 
ound  ten." 
tting,    and 
ibled  writ- 
continued 
period   of 
'as    so    far 
brtune  he 
hand,  lie 
months  to 
to   learn 
•ther  said, 

-born,    to 
on  should 
eem  more 
,  notv/itii 
lis   father 


to  set  him  aside  in  the  order  of  succession.  This 
was  principally  owing  to  his  grandmother,  who 
had,  during  the  life  of  the  laird,  her  husband, 
l;m,ii,uished,  almost  from  her  wedding-day,  in  a 
state  of  uninterested  resignation  of  spirit,  so 
quiet,  and  yet  so  melancholy,  that  it  partook  far 
more  of  the  nature  of  dejection  than  content- 
ment. Immediately  after  his  death  her  health 
and  her  spirits  began  to  acquire  new  energy ; 
and  before  he  was  six  months  in  the  earth  she 
strangely  appeared  as  a  cheerful  old  lady  who 
delighted  in  society,  and  could  herself  administer 
to  its  })leasures. 

In  the  summer  following  she  removed  into 
Glasgow,  and  Charles,  being  then  about  ten 
years  old,  was  sent  to  reside  with  her  for  the 
advantages  of  attending  the  schools.  Consider- 
inij  the  illiterate  education  of  his  father  and  the 
rough-spun  humours  and  character  of  his  mother, 
this  was  singularly  fortunate  ;  for  the  old  lady 
had,  in  her  youth,  been  deemed  destined  for  a 
more  refined  sphere  than  the  householdry  of 
the  Laird  of  Plealands. 

Her  father  was  by  profession  an  advocate  in 
Edinburgh,  and  had  sat  in  the  last  assembly  of 
the  States  of  Scotland.  Having,  however,  to 
the  last  opposed  the  Union  with  all  the  vehe- 
mence in  his  power,  he  was  rejected  b}^  the 
government  party  of  the  day ;  and  in  conse- 
quence, although  his  talents  and  acquirements 
were   considered   of   a    superior    order,    he    was 


7!2 


THE  ENTAIL 


allowed  to  hang  on  about  the  Parliament  House 
with  the  empty  celebrity  of  abilities  that,  wit!i 
more  prudence,  might  have  secured  both  riches 
and  honours. 

Tlie  leisure  which  he  was  thus  obliged  to 
possess  was  devoted  to  the  cultivation  of  his 
daughter's  mind,  and  the  affection  ot  no  father 
was  ever  more  tender,  till  about  the  period 
when  she  attained  her  twentieth  year.  Her 
charms  were  then  in  full  blossom,  and  she  was  | 
seen  only  to  be  followed  and  admired.  But, 
in  proportion  as  every  manly  heart  was  delighted 
with  the  graces  and  intelligence  of  the  unfor- 
tunate girl,  the  solicitude  of  her  father  to  see 
her  married  grew  more  and  more  earnest,  till 
it  actually  became  his  exclusive  and  predominant 
passion,  and  worked  upon  him  to  such  a  degree 
that  it  could  no  longer  be  regarded  but  as  tinc- 
tured with  some  insane  malady  ;  insomuch  that 
his  continual  questions  respecting  the  addresses 
of  the  gentlemen,  and  who  or  whether  any  of 
them  sincerely  spoke  of  love,  embittered  her 
life,  and  deprived  her  of  all  the  innocent  delight 
which  the  feminine  heart,  in  the  gaiety  and 
triumph  of  youth,  naturally  enjoys  from  the 
homage  of  the  men. 

At  this  jurcture  Malachi  Hypel  was  in  Edin- 
burgh, drinking  the  rounds  of  an  advocate's 
studies, — for  he  had  no  intention  to  practise,  and 
with  students  of  that  kind  the  bottle  then  sup- 
plied the  place  of  reviews  and  magazines.     He 


was  a  stu^ 
fellow,  cn| 
almost  to 
manners  a^ 
joyously, 
and  the  \j 
and  one  ij 
and  brand! 
her  a  tend] 
it  with  an 
heart  of  tl 
idea  of  be 
rugged,    si 
I  space  of  lit 
to  her  fate 
The  cor 
quite  inexj 
died,  unab 


THE  ENTAIL 


7li 


ment  House  | 

s  that,  witli 

both  riches 

obliged   to 
Ltion   of  Im 
't  no  father 
the    period 
year.      Her 
nd  she  Mas  g 
ired.      But,  I 
LS  delighted 
the   unfor- 
:her  to  see 
earnest,   till 
redominant 
h  a  degree 
Lit  as  tine- 
much  that 

addresses 
ler  any  of 
tered  her 
nt  delight 
aiety  and 
from    the 

in  Edin- 
idvocate's 
ctise^  and 
hen  suj)- 
|ies.     He 


was  a  sturdy,  rough,  hard-riding,  and  free-living 
pt  fellow,  entitled  by  his  fortune  and  connections 
.ilniost  to  the  best  society,  but  (qualified  by  his 
manners  and  inclinatio.,  to  relish  the  lowest  more 
joyously.  Unluckily  he  was  among  the  loudest 
and  the  warmest  admirers  of  the  ill-fated  girl ; 
and  one  night  after  supper,  flushed  with  claret 
and  brandy,  he  openly,  before  her  father,  made 
her  a  tender  of  his  hand.  The  old  man  grasped 
it  with  an  avaricious  satisfaction,  and  though  the 
heart  of  the  poor  girl  was  ready  to  burst  at  the 
ide-i  of  becoming  the  wife  of  jne  so  coarse  and 
ruiiired,  she  was  nevertheless  induced.,  in  the 
space  of  little  more  than  a  month  after,  to  submit 
to  her  fate. 

The  conduct  of  her  father  was  at  that  time 
quite  inexplicable ;  but  when  he  soon  afterwards 
died,  unable  to  witness  the  misery  to  which  he 
had  consigned  his  beloved  child,  the  secret  came 
out.  His  circumstances  were  in  the  most  ruinous 
condition  :  his  little  patrimony  was  entirely  con- 
sumed ;  and  he  acknowledged  on  his  deathbed, 
while  lie  implored  with  anguish  the  pardon  of  his 
daughter,  that  the  thought  of  leaving  her  in 
poverty  had  so  overset  his  reason  that  he  could 
think  of  nothing  but  of  securing  her  against  the 
horrors  of  want.  A  disclosure  so  painful  should 
have  softened  the  harsh  nature  of  her  husband 
towards  her;  but  it  had  quite  a  contrary  effect. 
He  considered  himself  as  having  been  in  some 
degree  overreached  ;  and  although  he  had  certainly 


74 


THE  ENTAIL 


not  marricHi  her  witli  any  view  to  fortune,  he 
yet  reviled  her  as  a  l)arty  to  her  father's  sordid 
machination.  This  confirmed  the  sadness  witl. 
wliicli  she  had  yielded  to  become  his  bri(]( 
and  darkened  the  whole  course  of  her  wedded 
life  with  one  continued  and  unvaried  shade  of 
melancholy. 

The  death  of  her  husband  was  in  consequence 
felt  as  a  deliverance  from  thraldom.  The  even' 
happened  late  in  the  day,  but  still  in  time  enoiiiili 
to  allow  the  original  brightness  of  her  mind  to 
shine  out  in  the  evening  with  a  serene  aiui 
pleasing  lustre,  sufficient  to  show  what,  in  happier 
circumstances,  she  might  have  been.  The  beams 
fell  on  Charles  with  the  cherishing  influence  of 
the  summer  twilight  on  the  young  plant;  and  if 
the  tears  of  memory  were  sometimes  mingled 
with  her  instructions,  they  were  like  the  gracious 
dews  that  improve  the  delicacy  of  the  flower  and 
add  freshness  to  its  fragrance.  Beneath  her  care, 
his  natural  sensibility  was  exalted  and  refined; 
and  if  it  could  not  be  said  that  he  was  endowed 
with  genius,  he  soon  appeared  to  feel  with  all  tlie 
tenderness  and  intelligence  of  a  poet.  In  this 
respect  his  ingenuous  affections  served  to  recall 
the  long- vanished  happiness  of  her  juvenile  hopes, 
and  yielding  to  the  sentiments  which  such  re- 
flections were  calculated  to  inspire,  she  devoted, 
perhaps,  too  many  of  her  exhortations  in  teaching 
him  to  value  love  as  the  first  of  earthly  blessing 
and  of  human  enjoyments.     ^^Love,"  she  often 


said  to  111 

stood  tlu'l 

it   comes 

kindled   il 

and  stronJ 

and  point] 

^vhcnce  il 

ill  calculaj 

in  the  woj 

to  master 

come    the 

^vhich  his 

to  medita 

opportunit 


s    '  :| 


ym 


THE   ENTAIL 


/  •> 


fortune,  he 
ther's  sordid 
ladness  wit!. 
■i  his  bri(|( 
her  wedded 
ed   shade  oi 

consequence 
The  event 
time  enouol) 
lier  mind  to 
serene    aiul 
t,  in  hapj)ier 
The  beams 
influence  of 
lant;  and  if 
es    mingled 
the  gracious 
flower  and  ^ 
h  her  care, 
nd  refined; 
IS  endowed 
^ith  all  the 
In   this 
i  to  recall 
nile  hopes, 
such  re- 
e  devoted, 
n  teaching 
Y  blessings 
she  often 


said  to  the  wondering  boy,  who  scarcely  under- 
stood tlie  term,  "  Love  is  like  its  end)lem  fire  : 
it  conies  down  from  hejiven,  and  when  once 
kindled  in  two  faithful  bosoms,  grows  brighter 
and  stronger  as  it  mingles  its  flames,  ever  rising 
and  pointing  towards  the  holy  fountain-head  from 
whence  it  came."  These  romarwtic  lessons  were 
ill  calculated  to  fit  him  to  perform  that  wary  part 
in  the  world  which  could  alone  have  enabled  him 
to  master  the  malice  of  his  fortune  and  to  over- 
come the  consequences  of  that  disinheritance 
which  liis  father  had  never  for  a  moment  ceased 
to  meditate,  but  only  waited  for  an  appropriate 
op])ortunity  to  carry  into  effect. 


CHAPTER   XIV 


LyHARLES,  in  clue  time,  was  sent  to  collcfre, 
and  while  attending  the  classes  formed  an  inti- 
mate friendship  with  a  youth  of  his  own  age,  of 
tlic  name  of  Colin  Fatherlans,  the  only  son  of 
Fatherlans  of  that  Ilk.  He  was  at  this  time 
about  eighteen,  and  being  invited  by  his  com- 
panion to  spend  a  few  weeks  at  Fatherlans 
House,  in  Ayrshire,  he  had  soon  occasion  to  feel 
the  influence  of  his  grandmother's  lectures  on 
affection  and  fidelity. 

Colin  liad  an  only  sister,  and  Charles,  from  the 
first  moment  that  he  saw  her,  felt  the  fascinations 
of  her  extraordinary  beauty  and  of  the  charms  of  a 
mind  still  more  lovely  in  its  intelligence  than  tlu 
bloom  and  graces  of  her  form.  Isabella  Father- 
lans was  tall  and  elegant,  but  withal  so  gentle 
that  she  seemed,  as  it  were,  ever  in  need  of 
protection ;  and  the  feeling  which  this  diffidence 
of  nature  universally  inspired  converted  the 
homage  of  her  admirers  into  a  sentiment  of 
tenderness  which,  in  the  impassioned  bosom  of 
Charles    Walkinshaw,  was  speedily  warmed  into 

love. 

76 


For  sev 

cat  ion  t)f 
iof  Isabe^li 
between 
mutual  paj 
tiie  sunshil 
mises  in 
thing,   on  I 
lineage   aij 
to  her  pan 
as  a  Hiatcl 
Time  alon 
their  affec 
leaj^ue,  an 
runs  smoot 
The  fatl 
^  tunate  lair 
I  project  of 
1  which,  at 
I  the  lovers 
blossoms  ii 
like  a  nip] 
for  ever. 
was  a  suffi 
I  to  comma] 
that  fond 
I  sidered  as 
'I  ho})e  to  o 
'"  bella  onlj 
.  to  her  lo\ 
*   felt  as  a  ] 


THE  ENTAIL 


/  I 


to  eolleire. 
tied  an  iiiti- 
own  age,  of 
only  son  of 
t  this  time 
yy  his  com- 

Fatherlans 
sion  to  feel 
lectures   on 

s,  from  tlie 
fascinations 
charms  of  a 
e  than  tlie 
lla  Father- 
so  gentle 
n  need  of 
diffidence 
erted    the 
timent  of 
bosom  of 
rmed  into 


For  several  successive  years  he  had  the  gratifi- 
cation of  spend'ng  some  weeks  in  the  company 
of  Isabella  ;  and  the  free  intercourse  ])ermitted 
between  them  soon  led  to  the  disclosure  of  a 
mutual  passion.  No  doubt  at  that  time  clouded 
the  sunshine  that  shone  along  the  hopes  and  pro- 
mises in  the  vista  of  their  future  years.  Every- 
thing, on  the  contrary,  was  propitious.  His 
lineage  and  prospects  rendered  him  acceptable 
to  her  parents,  and  she  was  viewed  by  his  father 
as  n  match  almost  beyond  expectation  desirable. 
Time  alone  seemed  to  be  the  only  adversary  to 
tiicir  affection ;  but  with  him  Fortune  was  in 
league,  and  the  course  of  true  love  never  long 
runs  smooth. 

The  father  of  Isabella  was  one  of  those  unfor- 
tunate lairds  who  embarked  in  the  Mississippian 
project  of  the  Ayr  Bank,  the  inevitable  fate  of 
which,  at  the  very  moment  when  the  hopes  of 
the  lovers  were  as  gay  as  the  apple-boughs  with 
blossoms  in  the  first  fine  mornings  of  spring,  came 
like  a  nipping  frost  and  blighted  their  happiness 
for  ever.  Fatherlans  was  ruined,  and  his  ruin 
was  a  sufficient  reason,  with  the  inflexible  Claud, 
to  command  Charles  to  renounce  all  thoughts  of 
that  fond  connection  which  he  had  himself  con- 
sidered as  the  most  enviable  which  his  son  could 
hoj)e  to  obtain.  But  the  altered  fortunes  of  Isa- 
bella only  served  to  endear  her  more  and  more 
to  her  lover  ;  and  the  interdict  of  his  father  was 
felt  as  a  profane  interference  with  that  hallowed 


78 


THE  ENTAIL 


entliusiasni  of  mingled  love  and  sorrow  with  which 
his  breast  was  at  the  moment  filled. 

"  It  is  impossible/'  said  he  ;  "  and  even  were  It 
in  my  power  to  submit  to  the  sacrifice  you  require, 
honour,    and    every    sentiment    that    makes    life 
worthy,  would  forbid  me.     No,   sir ;  I   feel   that 
Isabella  and  I  are  one.      Heaven  has  made  us  so, 
and  no  human  interposition  can  separate  minds 
which  God  and  nature  have  so  truly  united.     The 
very  reason  that  you  m'ge  against  the  continuance 
of  my  attachment  is  the  strongest  argument  to 
make  me   cherish  it  with  greater  devotion  than 
ever.     You    tell   me    she    is    poor,  and    must    be 
penniless.      Is   not  that,  sir,  telling  me  that  she 
has  claims  upon  my  compassion  as  well  as  on  my 
love  ?     You  say  her  father  must  be  driven  to  the 
door      Gracious    Heaven  !    and    in    such    a   time 
shall  I  shun  Isabella  ?     A  common  stranger,  one 
that   I   had  never  before  known,  would,  in  such 
adversity  and  distress,  be  entitled  to  any  asylum 
I  could  offer;  but  Isabella — in  the  storm  that  has 
unroofed  her  father's  house,  shall  she  not  claim 
that   shelter  which,    by    so   many  vows,    I    have 
sworn  to  extend  over  her  through  ]   e.''" 

"Weel,  weel,  Charlie,"  replied  the  old  man, 
"  rant  awa,  and  tak  thy  tocherless  bargain  to 
thee,  and  see  what  thou'U  mak  o't.  But  mind 
my  words  :  When  poverty  comes  in  at  the  door, 
love  jumps  out  at  the  window." 

''  It  is  true/'  said  the  lover,  a  little  more 
calmly,   "that  we  cannot  hope  to    live  in   such 


(■irciimstan| 

ibiit  still, 
p;irtnershii| 
father,  youl 
^^We'llll 
father.       "^ 
young,  cle^ 
iiccdlVil  md 
Charlie,  I'll 
ye'U  just  \i 
(onnection. 
()'  my  coun| 
foot  may 
neither   yoj 
luit  ye  can 

This  was  I 

and  sedate 

versation,  ( 

tliat   time 

iiumediatel; 

understand 

at  the  end 

so  inclined, 

culated  wi^ 

that  the    : 

cumstancei 

vcar,  have 

lover ;  and 

own  self-d 

of  Futherl 

twelve  m< 


THE  ENTAIL 


79 


V  with  which 

jven  were  it 

you  require, 

makes    life 

I  feel  that 
made  us  so, 
arate  minds 
nited.     The 

continuance 
rgument  to 
votion  tlian 
d  must  be 
le  that  she 
i  as  on  my 
iven  to  the 
ch  a  time 
•anger,  one 
1,  in  such 
iny  asylum 

II  that  has 
not  claim 
r    I    have 

• 

old  man, 
argain  to 
But  mind 

he  door, 

tie    more 
hi    sucli 


oircnmstances  as  I  had  so  often  reason  to  expect ; 
:l)iit  still,  you  will  not  refuse  to  take  me  into 
partnership,  which,  in  the  better  days  of  her 
father,  you  so  often  promised  ?  " 

'^  We'll  hae  twa  words  about  that,"  replied  the 
father.  "  It's  ae  thing  to  take  in  a  partner, 
young,  clever,  and  sharp,  and  another  to  take  a 
iieeclfid  man  with  the  prospect  o'  a  family.  But, 
Charlie,  I'll  no  draw  back  in  my  word  to  you,  if 
ye'll  just  put  off  for  a  year  or  twa  this  calf-love 
connection.  Maybe,  by-and-by  ye'll  think  better 
()'  my  counsel  ;  at  ony  rate,  something  for  a  sair 
^fbot  may  be  gathered  in  the  meantime,  and 
neither  you  nor  Bell  Fatherlans  are  sae  auld 
jhut  ye  can  afford  to  bide  a  while." 

This  was  said  in  the  old  man's  most  reflective 
,iand  sedate  manner ;  and  after  some  further  con- 
Iversation,  Charles  did  consent  to  postpone  for 
|tliat  time  his  marriage,  on  condition  of  being 
fiinmediately  admitted  into  partnership,  with  an 
understanding   that   he   should  be  free  to  marry 

iat  the  end  of  twelve  months,  if  he  still  continued 
so  inclined.  Both  parties  in  this  arrangement  cal- 
culated without  their  host.  The  father  thought 
|that  the  necessary  change  in  the  exterior  cir- 
icumstances  of  Isabella  would,  in  the  course  of  the 
lyear,  have  a  tendency  to  abate  the  ardour  of  her 
lover;  and  the  son  gave  too  much  credit  to  his 
own  self-denial,  supposing  that,  although  the  ruin 
|of  Fatherlans  was  declared,  yet,  as  in  similar  cases, 
itwelve  months  would  probably  elapse  before  the 


80 


THE  ENTAIL 


sequestration  and  sale  of  his  estate  would  finally 
reduce   the  condition   of   his   family.      From    the 
moment,  however,  that  the  aff)iirs  of  the  banking'  R| 
company  were  found  irretrievable,  Mr  Fatherlans 
zealously  bestirred  himself  to  place  his  daughter 
above  the  hazards  of  want,  even  while  he  enter- 
tained the  hope  that  it  might  not  be  necessary. 
He  carried  her  with  him  to  Glasgow,  and,  before 
calling  at  Claud's  shop,  secured  for  her  an  asylum 
in  the  house  of  Miss   Mally  Trimmings,  a  cele- 
brated  mantua-maker    of   that   time.     When   he 
afterwards  waited  on  the  inexorable  pedhir,  and 
communicated  the  circumstance,  the  latter  with 
unfeigned  pleasure  commendeci  the  prudence  uf 
the  measure ;  for  he  anticipated   that  the  pride 
of  ni::^  son  would  recoil  at  the  idea  of  connecting 
himself  with  Isabella  in  her  altered  state.     What 
the  lover  himself  felt  on  hearing  the  news  we 
shall  not  attempt   to   describe,  nor  shall   we  so 
far  intrude  beyond  the  veil   which  should  ever 
be  drawn  over  the  anxieties  and  the  sorrows  of 
young  affection,  under  darkened  prospects,  as  to 
relate  what  passed  between  the  lovers  when  they 
next  met.     The  resolution,  however,  with  which 
they  both  separated  was  worthy  of  the  purity  of 
their  mutual  affections,  and  they  agreed  to  pass 
the  probationary  year  in  a  cheerful   submission 
to  their  lot. 


When 

turned  th( 
situated  o 
foot  of  tht 
the  bridge 
fflen,  wher 
commandii 
gated  pros 
The  yea 
sun  setting 
which,  in  £ 
season   ter 
distant  mo 
A  thin  mi; 
of  a  haze  t 
I  from  the 
■  the  view ; 
in  the  goh 
outlines  o 
with   a   b 
as   if  illu: 
the  trees 
s  and  here 

VOL.   I. 


v^ould  finally 

From  the 
llie  banking' 
r  Fatherlaiis 
lis  daughter 
le  he  enter- 
3  necessary. 
and,  before 
r  an  asylum 
ngs,  a  cele- 

When  he 
pedhir,  and 
Litter  Mitli 
prudence  of 
t  the  pride 
connecting 
ate.     What 

news  we 
hall  we  so 
hould  ever 
sorrows  of 
)ects,  as  to 
when  thev 
ith  which 

purity  of 
d  to  pass 
ubmission 


'■i 


CHAPTER   XV 

\V  HEN  Charles  parted  from  Isabella  he  re- 
turned thoughtfully  towards  Grippy,  which  was 
situated  on  the  south  side  of  the  Clyde,  at  the 
foot  of  the  Cathkin  hills.  His  road,  after  passing 
the  bridge,  lay  across  the  fields  as  far  as  Ruther- 
glen,  where  it  diverged  towards  the  higher  ground, 
commanding  at  every  winding  a  rich  and  varie- 
gated prospect. 

The  year  was  waning  into  autumn,  and  the 
sun  setting  in  all  that  effulgence  of  glory  with 
which,  in  a  serene  evening,  he  commonly  at  that 
season  terminates  his  daily  course  behind  the 
distant  mountains  of  Dumbartonshire  and  Argyle. 
A  thin  mist,  partaking  more  of  the  lacy  character 
of  a  haze  than  the  texture  of  a  vapour,  spreading 
from  the  river,  softened  the  nearer  features  of 
the  view ;  while  the  distant  hills  were  glowing 
in  the  golden  blaze  of  the  western  skies,  and  the 
outlines  of  the  city  on  the  left  appeared  gilded 
with  a  brighter  light,  every  window  sparkling 
as  if  illuminated  from  within.  7'he  colour  of 
the  trees  and  hedges  was  beginning  to  change ; 
and  here  and  there  a  tuft  of  yellow  leaves,  and 


VOL.   I. 


81 


82 


THE  ENTAIL 


occasionally  the  berries  of  the  mountain  ash,  like 
clusters  of  fiery  embers,  -with  sheaves  of  corn 
and  reapers  in  a  few  of  the  neighbouring  fields, 
showed  that  the  summer  was  entirely  past  aiul 
the  harvest-time  begun. 

The  calm  diffused  over  the  face  of  the  land- 
scape, and  the  numerous  images  of  maturity  and 
repose  everywhere  around,  were  calculated  to 
soothe  the  spirit,  to  inspire  gentle  thoughts,  and 
to  awaken  pleasing  recollections ;  and  there  was 
something  in  the  feelings  with  which  the  lovers 
had  separated,  if  not  altogether  in  unison  with 
the  graciousness  of  the  hour,  still  so  much  in 
harmony  with  the  general  benignity  of  nature 
that  Charle  felt  his  resolution  and  self-denial 
elevated  with  a  sentiment  of  devotion,  mingled 
with  the  fond  enthusiasm  of  his  passion.  '^  It  is 
but  a  short  time — a  few  months — and  we  shall 
be  happy  ! "  he  exclaimed  to  himself;  "and  our 
happiness  will  be  the  dearer  that  we  shall  have 
earned  it  by  this  sacrifice  to  prudence  and  to 
duty." 

But  Charles  and  Isabella  had  estimated  their 
fortitude  too  highly.  They  were  both  inexperi- 
enced in  what  the  world  really  is  ;  and  her  tender 
and  sensitive  spirit  was  soon  found  incapable  of 
withstanding  the  trials  and  the  humiliation  to 
which  she  found  herself  subjected. 

It  was  part  of  her  business  to  carry  home  the 
dresses  made  up  for  Miss  Mally's  customers ;  and 
althougli  the   Glasgow  ladies  of  that  time  were 


perhaps 
style   or 
than   those 
were  less 
tion  for  th 
our  fair  cc 
been.     Th 
often  obli^ 
which,  the 
attention 
painfully 
Still,  how< 
circumstan 
sensibilitie 
her  beaut 
began  to  : 
Charles 
her  in  the 
formed  hei 
of  the  bur 
how  much 
past,  and  c 
misfortune 
more.     It 
being  late 
— the  foo 
Mally's  d\ 
he  arrivec 
wife   of  t 
Matty  wh 
Tolbooth 


THE  ENTAIL 


83 


in  asli,  like 
es  of  corn 
iring  fields, 
y  past  and 

'  the  land- 
iturity  and 
iulated    to 
ughts,  and 
there  Avas 
the  lovers 
[lison  witli 
)  much  ill 
of  nature 
self-denial 
1,  mingled 
n. 


t( 


It  is 
I  we  shall 
"and  our 
shall  have 
e   and  to 

ited  their 
inexperi- 
ler  tender 
apable  of 
liation  to 

lome  the 
lers ;  and 
me  were 


perhaps  not  more  difficult  to  please  with  the 
style  or  fashion  of  their  gowns  and  millinery 
than  those  of  our  own  day,  yet  some  of  them 
were  less  actuated  by  a  compassionate  considera- 
tion for  the  altered  fortunes  of  Isabella  than  all 
our  fair  contemporaries  would  undoubtedly  have 
been.  The  unfortunate  girl  was,  in  consequence, 
often  obliged  to  suffer  taunts  and  animadversions, 
which,  though  levelled  against  the  taste  or  in- 
attention of  her  mistress,  entered  not  the  less 
painfully  into  her  young  and  delicate  bosom. 
Still,  however,  she  struggled  against  the  harsh 
circumstances  to  which  she  was  exposed ;  but  her 
sensibilities  were  stronger  than  her  courage,  and 
her  beauty  betrayed  what  she  felt,  and  soon 
began  to  fade. 

Charles  was  in  the  practice  of  accompanying 
her  in  the  evenings  when  she  commonly  per- 
formed her  disagreeable  errands,  and  relieved  her 
of  the  burden  of  her  band-box,  joyfully  counting 
how  much  of  the  probationary  year  was  already 
past,  and  cheering  her  with  the  assurance  that  her 
misfortunes  had  only  endeared  her  to  him  the 
more.  It  happened,  however,  that  one  Saturday, 
being  late  of  reaching  the  place  of  rendezvous 
— the  foot  of  the  staircase  which  led  to  Miss 
Mally's  dwelling — Isabella  had  gone  away  before 
he  arrived,  with  a  new  dress  to  Mrs  Jarvie,  the 
wife  of  the  far-famed  Bailie  Nicol,  the  same 
Matty  who  lighted  the  worthy  magistrate  to  the 
Tolbooth  on  that  memorable  night  when  he,  the 


84 


THE  ENTAIL 


son  of  the  deacon,  found  liis  kinsman   Rob  Roy 
there. 

Matty  at  this  time  was  a  full-blown  iady—  the 
simple,  modest,  barefooted  lassie  having  developed 
into  a  crimson,  gorgeous,  high-heeled  madam — 
well  aware  of  the  augmented  width  and  weight 
of  the  bailie's  purse,  and  jealous  a  little  too  niuch 
of  her  own  consequence,  perhaps  by  recollecting; 
the  condition  from  which  she  had  been  exaltc'J. 
The  dress  made  up  for  her  was  a  costly  neglige ; 
i"  not  only  contained  several  yards  of  the  richest 
brocade  more  than  any  other  Miss  Mally  Trim- 
mings had  ever  made,  but  was  adorned  with  cuffs 
and  flounces  in  a  style  of  such  affluent  magnifi- 
cence that  we  question  if  any  grander  has  since 
been  seen  in  Glasgow.  Nor  was  it  ordered  for  any 
common  occasion,  but  to  giace  a  formal  dinner- 
party which  Provost  Anderson  and  his  lady  in- 
tenc'ed  to  give  the  magistrates  and  their  wives 
at  the  conclusion  of  his  eighth  provostry.  It 
was,  therefore,  not  extraordinary  that  Mrs  Jarvie 
should  take  particular  interest  in  this  dress  ;  but 
the  moment  she  began  to  try  it  on,  poor  Isabella 
discovered  that  it  would  not  fit,  and  stood  trem- 
bling from  head  to  heel,  while  the  bailie's  wife,  in 
great  glee  and  good-humour  with  the  splendour 
of  the  dress,  was  loud  in  her  praises  of  the  cut 
of  the  ruffle-cuffs  and  the  folds  of  the  flounces. 
Having  contemplated  the  flow  of  the  neglige  on 
bcth  sides,  and  taken  two  or  three  stately  steps 
across   the   room,   to   see   ho^y   it    would    sweep 


lur  hanas| 
they  woul( 
Isabella] 
hand,    apj] 
niii;ht  expj 
stood  a  ml 
Lot's  wife  I 
the  charm] 
"Oh,  cl: 
the  ci-dcvi 
chrystal  ! 
mistress, 
to  be  skel 
goun's  ruii 
near-begai 
o'  the  gait 
me.     This 
As  I'm  a  li 
me  to  say- 
the  lords, 
twenty  gu 
God  and 
satisfactio] 
me  off  wi' 
\vi'  you ;  1 
presence, 
grace  to 

1  Craiphl 

]      tumely :   it 
Coughing. 


THE  ENTAIL 


85 


i  Rob  R 


«y 


lady—  tlie 
developed 
madam— 
nd  weight 
!  too  much 
-collectiiur 
n  exaltrd. 


neglige 


lie  richest 
illy  Trim- 
with  cuffs 
t  magnifi- 
has  since 
ed  for  any 
il  dinner- 
lady  iu- 
eir  wives 
3stry.     It 
[rs  Jarvie 
ress ;  but 
r  Isabella 
>od  treni- 
s  wife,  in 
plendour 
'  the  cut 
flounces. 
-glige  on 
ely  steps    I 
sweep 


behind,  Airs  Jarvie  took  the  wings  of  tlie  body  in 
her  lianas,  and  drawing  them  together,  found 
ihey  would  not  nearly  meet. 

Isabella,  Vvith  a  beating  heart  and  a  diffident 
hand,  approached  to  smooth  the  silk,  that  it 
niii;ht  expand  ;  but  all  would  not  do.  Mrs  Jarvie 
stood  a  monument  of  consternation,  as  silent  as 
Lot  s  wife  when  she  looked  back  and  thought  of 
the  charming  dresses  she  had  left  behind. 

"  Oh,  chrystal !  "  were  the  first  words  to  which 
the  ci-deva?it  Matty  could  give  utterance.  "  Oh, 
chrystal  !  My  God,  isna  this  moving .''  Your 
mistress,  doited  devil,  as  I  maun  ca'  her,  ought 
to  be  skelpit  wi'  nettles  for  this  calamity.  The 
goun's  ruin't.  My  gude  silk  to  be  clippit  in  this 
near-begaun  way,  past  a'  redemption.  Gang  out 
o'  the  gait,  ye  cuLty,  and  no  finger  and  meddle  wi' 
me.  This  usage  is  enough  to  provoke  the  elect ! 
As  I'm  a  living  soul — and  that's  a  muckle  word  for 
me  to  say-  -I'll  hae  the  old  craighling  scoot  ^  afore 
the  lords.  The  first  cost  was  mair  than  five-and- 
twenty  guineas.  If  there's  law  and  justice  atween 
God  and  man,  she  shall  pay  for't,  or  I'll  hae  my 
satisfaction  on  her  flesh.  Hither,  maiden,  and  help 
me  off  wi'  it.  Siccan  a  beauty  as  it  was  !  Tak  it 
wi'  you ;  tak  it  to  you  ;  out  o'  the  house  and  my 
presence.  How  durst  ye  dare  to  bring  sic  a  dis- 
grace to  me .''     But  let  me  look  at  it.     Is't  no 

1  Craiqhling  scoot.  Scoot  is  a  term  of  the  greatest  con- 
tumely :  it  is  used  so  in  Sir  Andrew  Wylie.  Craighling  is 
Coughing. 


86 


THE  ENTAIL 


poj  ?ible  to  put  in  a  gushet  or  a  gore,  and  to 
make  an  eik  ?  "  ^ 

*^ril  take  it  home  and  try,"  said  Isabella, 
timidly  folding  up  the  gown,  which  she  h;id 
removed  from   Mrs  Jarvie. 

"Try!"  said  the  bailie's  wife,  relapsing;  "a 
pretty-like  story  that  sic  a  goun  should  stand  in 
the  jeopardy  o'  a  try.  But  how  could  Miss  Mally 
presume  to  send  a  silly  thing  like  t'ee  on  this 
occasion  ?  Lay  down  the  goun  this  precious 
moment,  and  gae  hame  and  order  her  to  come  to 
me  direkilty :  it's  no  to  seek  what  I  hae  to  say." 

The  trembling  and  terrified  girl  let  the  unfor- 
tunate neglige  fall,  and  hastily,  in  tears,  quitted 
the  room,  and,  flying  from  the  house,  met  in  the 
street  her  lover,  who,  having  learned  where  she 
was,  had  followed  her  to  the  house.  A  rapid  and 
agitated  disclosure  of  her  feelings  and  situation 
followed.  Charles,  on  the  spot,  resolved,  at  all 
hazards,  rather  to  make  her  his  wife  at  once,  aiid 
to  face  the  worst  that  might  in  consequence 
happen  from  his  father's  displeasure,  than  allow 
her  to  remain  exposed  to  such  contumelious 
treatment.  Accordingly,  it  was  agreed  that  they 
should  be  married  ;  and  on  the  Monday  followimi; 
the  ceremony  was  performed,  when  he  conducted 
her  to  a  lodging  which  he  had  provided  in  the 
interval. 

1  Mk,    Additioi^. 


On  the 

anxious,  d 
tention  w 
what  he 
sible,   to 
ness,  mig 
and  moti 
thought, 
Liiough  tl 
had  some 
view  it  e5 
which  thi 
first,  and 
He  ha 
grandmo 
towards 
effect  it  i 
was  iull; 
after   so] 
peculiar! 
her  inte: 
going  t( 
when  h( 


>re,   and  to 

1     Isabella,  p 
1    she    had 


ipsm^;   "a 
d  stand  in 
Miss  Mally 
ee  on  this 
s    precious 
;o  come  to 
e  to  say." 
the  unfor- 
rs,  quitted 
net  in  the 
where  she 
rapid  and 
I  situation 
^ed,  at  all 
once,  aiid 
nsequence 
hari  allow 
tumelious 
that  they 
followinij 
conducted 
id  in  the 


CHAPTEK    XVI 

yjS  the  morning  after  his  marriage  Charles  was 
anxious,  doubtful,  and  diffident.  His  original  in 
tention  was  to  go  at  once  to  his  father,  to  state 
what  he  had  done,  and  to  persuade  him,  if  pos- 
sible, to  overlook  a  stej)  that,  from  its  sudden- 
ness, might  be  deemed  rash,  but,  from  the  source 
and  motives  from  which  it  proceeded,  could,  he 
thought,  be  regarded  only  as  {)raiseworthy.  Still, 
ciiough  this  was  his  own  opinion,  he  nevertheless 
had  some  idea  that  the  old  gentleman  would  not 
view  it  exactly  in  the  same  light ;  and  the  feeling 
which  this  doubt  awakened  made  him  hesitate  at 
first,  and  finally  to  seek  a  mediator. 

He  had  long  remarked  that  "the  leddy,"  his 
grandmother,  sustained  a  part  of  great  dignity 
towards  his  father ;  and  he  concluded,  from  the 
effect  it  appeared  to  produce,  that  her  superiority 
was  iully  acknowledged.  Under  this  delusion, 
after  some  consideration  of  the  bearings  and 
peculiarities  of  his  case,  he  determined  to  t.y 
her  interference,  and  for  that  purpose,  instead  of 
going  to  Grippy,  as  he  had  originally  intended 
when  he  left  Isabella,  he  proceeded  to  the  house 

87 


88 


THE  ENTAIL 


of  the  .)1(1  lady,  wlicrr;  he  foiiiul  her  at  home  aiul 
ahme. 

Tlie  moment  lie  entered  her  sitting-room  she 
perceived  that  his  mint.'  was  laden  with  some- 
thing which  j)resscd  heavily  on  his  feehngs  ;  and 
she  said — 

"  What  has  vext  you,  Charhe  ?  Has  your 
father  been  severe  upon  you  for  ony  misde- 
meanour, or  hae  ye  done  anything  that  ye're 
afeared  to  tell  ?  " 

In  the  exj)ression  of  these  sentiments  she  had 
touched  the  sensitive  cord  that,  at  the  moment, 
was  fastened  to  his  heart. 

"I'm  sure,"  was  his  reply,  "thai  \  hae  done  no 
ill,  and  dinna  ken  why  I  should  be  frightened  in 
thinking  on  what  everybody  that  can  feel  and 
reflect  will  approve." 

"What  is't  .^  "  said  the  leddy  thoughtfully. 
"  What  is't }  If  it's  aught  good,  let  me  partake 
the  solace  wi'  you ;  and  if  it's  bad,  speak  it  out, 
that  a  remedy  may  be,  as  soon  as  possible, 
applied." 

"  Bell  Fatherlans,"  was  his  answer ;  but  he 
could  only  articulate  her  name. 

"  Poor  lassie  ! "  said  the  venerable  gentle- 
woman, "her  lot's  hard;  and  I'm  wae  for  both 
your  sake  and  hers,  Charlie,  that  your  father's  so 
dure  as  to  stand  against  your  marriage  in  the  way 
he  does.  But  he  was  aye  a  bargainer.  Alack  ! 
the  world  is  made  up  o'  bargainers ;  and  a  heart 
wi'  a  right  affection  is  no  an  article  o'  muckle 


repute  in  til 
I'oor  genty 
to  hae  swe^ 
>,he's  oner  tl 
ami  prius  ol 
and,  what's! 
pridefu'  cusl 
"  She  coia 
let  her,"  rej 
these  expre: 
his  imprude 
Mrs   Hyi 
ansvvcr,  but 
we  might  ir 
"Ye  shou 
help  you,  m 
to  your  fat 
do  what  ye 
trust  to  Pre 
it  should  be 
"I  fear," 
I  hae  done 
married  ye 
snooled  -    a 
p  fat-pursed 
a  new  gow: 
"  Marrie 
accent  of  i 
;!  ried  !      W( 
I  trodden,  £ 

iJ    ^  Tawpy.    ' 


THE  ENTAIL 


89 


home  and 

-room  she 
itii  somc- 
"ig«;  and 

FI.'is  your 
y  misde- 
liat   ye 're 

>  she  had 
moment, 

done  no 
itened  in 
feel  and 


fhtfuljy. 

partake 

it  out, 

30ssible, 

but    he 

gentle- 
)r  botli 
ler's  so 
le  way 
Mack  I 
I  heart 
ciuckle 


repute  in  the  common  market  o'  man  and  woman. 
I'oor  ^enty  Bell !  I  wisli  it  had  been  in  my  power 
to  hue  sweetened  her  lot ;  for  I  doubt  and  fear 
^he's  oucr  tnin-skinned  to  thole  long  the  needles 
,111(1  prins  o'  Miss  Mally  Trimmings'  short  temper, 
.111(1,  what's  far  waur,  the  tawpy  ^  taunts  of  her 
pridt'fu'  customers." 

"  She  could  suffer  them  no  longer,  nor  would  I 
let  her,"  replied  the  bridegroom,  encouraged  by 
these  expressions  to  disclose  the  whole  extent  of 
his  imprudence. 

Mrs  Hypel  did  not  immediately  return  any 
answer,  but  sat  for  a  few  moments  thoughtful, 
we  might  indeed  say  sorrowful ;  she  then  said — 

"Ye  shouldna,  Charlie,  speak  to  me.  I  canna 
help  you,  my  dear,  though  I  hae  the  will.  Gang 
to  your  father  and  tell  him  a',  and  if  he  winna 
do  what  ye  wish,  then,  my  poor  bairn,  bravely 
trust  to  Providence,  that  gars  the  heart  beat  as 
it  should  beat,  in  spite  o'  a'  the  devices  o'  man/* 

"I  fear,"  replied  Charles  with  simplicity,  "that 
I  hae  done  that  already,  for  Bell  and  me  were 
married  yesterday.  I  couldna  suffer  to  see  her 
snooled  -  and  cast  down  any  longer  by  every 
fat-pursed  wife  that  would  triumph  and  glory  in 
a  new  gown." 

"  Married,  Charlie  ! "  said  the  old  lady  with  an 
accent  of  surprise,  mingled  with  sf^rrow.  "Mar- 
ried !  Weel,  that's  a  step  that  canna  be  un- 
trodden,  and   your   tribulation   is    proof  enough 

^  Tawpy.     Ill-conditioned.         2  Snooled.     Broken  in  vspirit. 


90 


THE  ENTAir. 


to  me  that  you  are  awakened  to  the  eoiisetjuencT. 
But  what's  to  be  done  ?  " 

"  Nothing,  mem,  but  only  to  speak  a  kind 
word  for  us  to  my  father,"  was  the  still  simple 
answer  of  the  simple  younjij  husband. 

''I'll  spejik  for  you,  <"harlie:  I  can  do  tiiat, 
and  I'll  be  haj)py  and  i)routl  to  ^ie  you  a'  tlu- 
countenance  in  my  power ;  but  your  father, 
Charlie — the  ^ude  foririe  me  because  he  is  your 
father — I'm  darkened  and  dubious  when  I  think 
o  him. 

"I  hae  a  notion,"  replied  Charles,  "that  Me 
need  be  no  cess  ^  on  him.  We're  content  to 
live  in  a  sma'  way,  only  I  would  like  my  wife 
to  be  countenanced  as  becomes  her  ain  family, 
and  mair  especially  because  she  is  mine  ;  so  that, 
if  my  father  will  be  pleased  to  tak  her,  and 
regard  her  as  his  gude-dochter,  I'll  ask  nothing 
for  the  present,  but  do  my  part,  as  an  honest 
and  honourable  man,  to  the  very  uttermost  «' 
my  ability." 

The  kind  and  venerable  old  woman  was  ])r(>- 
foundly  moved  by  the  earnest  and  frank  spirit  in 
which  this  was  said  ;  and  she  assured  him  that 
so  wise  and  so  discreet  a  resolution  could  not  fail 
to  make  his  father  look  with  a  compassionate 
eye  on  his  generous  imprudence.  "  So  gae  your 
ways  home  to  Bell,"  said  she,  "  and  counsel  and 
comfort  her  ;  the  day's  raw,  but  I'll  even  now 
away  to  the  Grippy  to  intercede  for  you,  and  by 

1  Cess.     Tax. 


THE  ENTAIL 


91 


'onse(jucncc. 

eak    .'I    kind 
still  simple 

;m  do  tlmt, 
you  a'  tlie 
our  father, 
;  he  is  your 
len  I  think 


(( 


,  that  we 
content  to 
ie  my  wife 
ain  family, 
le ;  so  that, 
k  lier,  and 
sk  nothinjr 
an  honest 
;termost  o' 


the  <:jloaming  be  you  here  wi*  your  bonny  l)ri(le, 
and  I  trust,  as  I  wish,  to  hae  glad  tidings  for 
vou  baith." 
Charles,  with  great  ardour  and  eneri^y,  expressed 
I  the  sense  which  he  felt  of  the  old  lady's  kindness 
and  partiality,  but  still  he  doubted  the  successful 
result  of  the  mission  she  had  undertaken.  Never- 
theless, lier  words  inspired  hope,  and  hope  was 
the  charm  that  spread  over  the  prospects  of 
Isabella  and  of  himself  the  hght,  the  verdure, 
and  the  colours  which  enriched  and  filled  the 
distant  and  future  scenes  of  their  expectations 
with  fairer  and  brighter  promises  than  they  were 
ever  destined  to  enjoy. 


1  was  ])!'()- 
ik  spirit  in 
him  that 
dd  not  fail 
ipassionate 
3  gae  your 
ounsel  and 
even  now 
ou,  and  by  i 


CHAPTER  XYII 

OLAUD  was  sitting  at  the  window  when  he  dis- 
covered his  mother-in-law  coming  slowly  towards 
the  house,  and  he  said  to  his  wife — 

"  In  the  name  o'  gude,  Girzy,  what  can  hae 
brought  your  mother  frae  the  town  on  sic  a  day 
as  this  ?  " 

"  I  hope,"  replied  the  leddy  of  Grippy,  "that 
nothing's  the  matter  wi'  Charlie,  for  he  promised 
to  be  out  on  Sabbath  to  his  dinner,  and  never 
came." 

In  saying  these  words,  she  went  hastily  to  the 
door  to  meet  her  mother,  the  appearance  of  whose 
countenance  at  the  moment  was  not  calculated 
to  allay  her  maternal  fears.  Indeed,  the  old 
lady  scarcely  spoke  to  her  daughter,  but  walkini^ 
straight  into  the  dining-room  where  Grippy  him- 
self was  sitting,  took  a  seat  on  a  chair,  and  then 
threw  off  her  cloak  on  the  back  of  it,  before  she 
uttered  a  word. 

"  What's  wrang,  grannie  }  "  said  Claud,  rising 
from  his  seat  at  the  window  and  coming  towards 
her.     "  What's  wrang  ;  ye  seem  fashed  }  "  ^ 

^  Fashed,     Vexed  and  troubled, 
92 


THE  ENTAIL 


93 


hen  he  dis- 
vly  towards 

it  can  hae 
n  sic  a  day 

3py,  "that 
e  promised 
and  never 

tily  to  the 
of  whose 
calculated 
the  old 
it  walkiii<r 
ippy  hini- 
and  then 
)efore  slie 

id,   rising 
i:  towards 


i).V* 


"  In  truth,  Mr  Walkinshaw,  I  hae  cause,"  was 
the  reply — "  poor  Charlie  ! — " 

"  What's  happened  to  him  ? "  exclaimed  his 
mother. 

"  Has  he  met  wi'  ony  misfortunate  accident  ?  " 
inquired  the  father. 

''  I  hope  it's  no  a  misfortune,"  said  the  old 
lady,  somewhat  recovering  her  self-possession. 
"At  the  same  time,  it's  what  I  jealouse,  Grippy, 
yell  no  be  vera  content  to  hear." 

'•  What  is't  .'*  "  cried  the  father  sharply,  a  little 
tantalised. 

"  Has  he  broken  his  leg  ?  "  said  the  mother. 

''  Haud  that  clavering  tongue  o'  thine,  Girzy," 
exclaimed  the  laird  peevishly;  "wilt  t'ou  ne'er  de- 
vaul  wi'  scauding  ^  thy  lips  in  other  folks'  kail  ?  " 

"He  had  amaist  met  wi'  far  waur  than  a 
broken  leg,"  interposed  the  grandmother.  "  His 
heart  was  amaist  broken." 

"  It  maun  be  unco  brittle,"  said  Claud,  with  a 
hem.  "  But  what's  the  need  o'  this  summering 
and  wintering  anent  it  ?  Tell  us  what  has 
happened." 

"  Ye're  a  parent,  Mr  Walkinshaw,"  replied  the 
old  lady  seriously,  "  and  I  think  ye  hae  a  fatherly 
regard  for  Charlie ;  but  I'll  be  plain  wi'  you.  I 
doubt  ye  haena  a  right  consideration  for  the 
gentle  nature  of  the  poor  lad  ;  and  it's  that  which 
gars  me  doubt  and  fear  that  what  I  hae  to  say 
will  no  be  agreeable." 

^  Devaul  wi'  scauding.     Cease  scalding. 


94 


THE  ENTAIL 


Claud  said  nothing  in  answer  to  this,  but  sat 
down  in  a  chair  on  the  right  side  of  his  mother- 
in-law,  his  wife  having  in  the  meantime  taken  a 
seat  on  the  other  side.    The  old  lady  continued— 

"At  the  same  time,  Mr  Walkinshaw,  ye're  a 
reasonable  man,  and  what  I'm  come  about  is  a 
matter  that  maun  just  be  endured.  In  short,  it's 
nothing  less  than  to  say  that,  considering  Father- 
lans'  misfortunes,  ye  ought  to  hae  alloo't  Charlie 
and  Isabella  to  hae  been  married,  for  it's  a  sad 
situation  she  was  placed  in — a  meek  and  gentle 
creature  like  her  wasna  fit  to  bide  the  flyte  ^  and 
flights  o'  the  Glasgow  leddies." 

She  paused,  in  the  expectation  that  Claud 
would  make  some  answer,  but  he  still  remained 
silent.     Mrs  Walkinshaw,  however,  spoke — 

"  'Deed,  mither,  that's  just  what  I  said,  for  ye 
ken  it's  an  awfu'  thing  to  thwart  a  true  affection. 
Troth  is't,  gudeman ;  and  ye  should  think  what 
would  hae  been  your  ain  tender  feelings  had  my 
father  stoppit  our  wedding  after  a'  was  settled." 

"  There  was  some  difference  between  the  twa 
cases,"  said  the  dowager  of  Plealands  dryly  to 
her  daughter  ;  "  neither  you  nor  Mr  Walkinshaw 
were  so  young  as  Charlie  and  Miss  Fatherlans 
— that  was  something ;  and  maybe  there  was  a 
difference,  too,  in  the  character  of  the  parties. 
Howsever,  Mr  Walkinshaw,  marriages  are  made 
in  heaven ;  and  it's  no  in  the  power  and  faculty 
of  man  to  controvert  the  coming  to  pass  o'  what 

^  Flyte.     Scolding. 


is  ordainei 
Fatherlanj 
Maker,  ai 
their  hap] 
"  I'm  s» 
'qt  can  nl 
woukl  onlj 
but  calf-l( 
Mrs  Hyl 
'^t's  vc 
auld  heads 
Walkinsha 
young  foll-i 
tion  as  tli< 
wish.     Th 
Rachel's  a: 
^'I    but 
Claud. 
"  A  yeai 
']    a  lang  tale 
has   come 
gotten  the 
"  No  po 
Ins  chair, 
;        ''  Weel, 
heard  the 
man  1  the 
The   ol 
other  inte 
a    daughter 


hisj  but  sat 
his  motlier- 
me  taken  a 
:;ontinuecl— 
aw,  ye 're  a 

about  is  a 
n  short,  it's 
ing  Father- 
>o't  Charlie 
c  it's  a  sad 
and  gentle 

flyte  1  and 

hat    Claud 

[  remained 

•ke — 

aid,  for  ye 

3  affection. 

hink  what 

i^s  had  my 

settled." 

1  the  twa 

dryly  to 

alkinshaw 

atherlans 

re  was  a 

5  parties. 

ire  made 

d  faculty 

s  o'  what 


THE  ENTAIL  f).5 

is  ordained  to  be.  Charlie  Walkinshaw  and  Bell 
Fatherlans  were  a  couple  marrowed  ^  by  their 
Maker,  and  it's  no  right  to  stand  in  the  way  of 
their  happiness." 

"  I'm  sure,"  said  Claud,  now  breaking  silence, 
''it  can  ne'er  be  said  that  I'm  ony  bar  till't.  I 
would  only  fain  try  a  year's  probation  in  case  it's 
but  calf-love." 

Mrs  Hypel  shook  her  head  as  she  said — 

"It's  vera  prudent  o'  you,  but  ye  canna  put 
auld  heads  on  young  shouthers.  In  a  word,  Mr 
Walkinshaw,  it's  no  reasonable  to  expeck  that 
young  folk,  so  encouraged  in  their  mutual  affec- 
tion as  they  were,  can  thole  so  lang  as  ye  would 
wish.  The  days  o'  sic  courtships  as  Jacob's  and 
Rachel's  are  lang  past." 

"  I  but  bade  them  bide  a  year,"  replied 
Claud. 

"  A  year's  an  unco  time  to  love  ;  but,  to  make 
a  lang  tale  short,  what  might  hae  been  foreseen 
has  come  to  pass, — the  fond  young  things  hae 
gotten  themselves  married." 

"No  possible  !  "  exclaimed  Claud,  starting  from 
his  chair,  which  he  instantly  resumed. 

"Weel,"  said  Mrs  Walkinshaw,  '^if  e'er  I 
heard  the  like  o'  that !  Our  Charlie  a  married 
man  !  the  head  o'  a  family  !  " 

The  old  lady  took  no  notice  of  these  and 
other  interjections  of  the  same  meaning  which  her 
daughter  continued  to  vent ;  but  looking  askance 

^  Marrowed.     Partnered. 


96 


THE  ENTAIL 


at  Claud,  who  seemed  for  p  minute  deeply  and 
moodily  agitated,  she  said — 

"Ye  say  nothing,  Mr  Walkinshaw." 

"  What  can  I  say  ?  "  was  his  answer.  "  I  had 
a  better  hope  for  Charlie — I  thought  the  year 
would  hae  cooled  him — ;  and  I'm  sure  Miss 
Betty  Bodle  would  hae  been  a  better  bargain." 

"  Miss  Betty  Bodle  ! "  exclaimed  the  grand- 
mother ;  "  she's  a  perfect  tawpy." 

"Weel,  weel,"  said  Grippy,  "it  mak's  no 
odds  noo  what  she  is  :  Charlie  has  ravelled  the 
skein  1  o'  his  own  fortune,  and  maun  wind  it  as 
he  can." 

"That  will  no  be  ill  to  do,  Mr  Walkinshaw, 
wi'  your  helping  hand.  He's  your  first-born, 
and  a  better-hearted  lad  never  lived." 

"Nae  doubt   I  maun  heln  him — there  can  be 

A. 

nae  doubt  o'  that ;  but  he  canna  expeck,  and 
the  world  can  ne'er  expeck,  that  I'll  do  for  him 
what  I  might  hae  done  had  he  no  been  so  rash 
and  disobedient." 

"  Very  true,  Mr  W^alkinshaw,"  said  the  gratified 
old  lady,  happy  to  find  that  the  reconciliation 
was  so  easily  effected  ;  and,  proud  to  be  the 
messenger  of  such  glad  tidings  to  the  young 
couple,  she  soon  after  returned  to  Glasgow.  But 
scarcely  had  she  left  the  house  when  Claud 
appeared  strangely  disturbed :  at  one  moment 
he  ran  hastily  towards  his  scrutoire  and  opened 
it,  and  greedily  seized  the  title-deeds  of  his  pro- 
^  Ravdlcd  the  skein.      Twisted  the  thread. 


perty;  til 
retreatinj 
"  Wha] 
werena 
said  his  \| 
'^'lldl 
was  the 
"  Eh, 
into  thel 
Charlie's 
lather." 
"Out 
Claud  in 
Walter  tl 
"  It's  c 
glide  to 
a  low,  it 
walked  t( 
"Nae 
thing  to 
his  rashn 
"  It  is, 
a  ane  fc 
f     cut  then 
"  Tha 
I     "  Didna 
\      the   leg 
the  Enj 
I      Betty  B 
I  "  Anc 


THE  ENTAIL 


97 


perty ;  the   next   he  closed  it  thoughtfully,  and, 
retreating  to  his  seat,  sat  down  in  silence. 

"  What's  the  matter  \vi'  you,  gudeman  ?  Ye 
werena  sae  fashed  when  my  mother  was  here," 
said  his  wife. 

"  I'll  do  nothing  rashly — I'll  do  nothing  rashly," 
was  the  mysterious  reply. 

"  Eh,  mither,  mither  ! "  cried  Walter,  bolting 
into  the  room.  "  Wliat  would  you  think  :  our 
Charlie's  grown  a  wife's  gudeman,  like  my 
father." 

"  Out  o'  my  sight,  ye  ranting  cuif !  "  ^  exclaimed 
Claud  in  a  rapture  of  rage,  w^hich  so  intimidated 
Walter  that  he  fled  in  terror. 

"It's  dreadfu'  to  be  sae  temjited — and  a'  the 
glide  to  gang  to  sic  a  haverel,"  added  Claud,  in 
a  low,  troubled  accent,  as  he  turned  away  and 
walked  towards  the  window. 

"Nae  doubt,"  said  his  wife,  "it's  an  awfu' 
thing  to  hear  o'  sic  disobedience  as  Charlie,  in 
his  rashness,  has  been  guilty  o'." 

''It  is,  it  is,"  replied  her  husbfnd;  *'and  many 
a  ane  for  far  less  hae  disinherited  their  sons — 
cut  them  ofFwi'  a  shilling." 

"  That's  true,"  rejoined  the  leddy  of  Grippy. 
"  Didna  Kilmarkeckle  gie  his  only  daughter  but 
the  legacy  o'  his  curse  for  running  away  wi* 
the  Englisher  captain,  and  leave  a'  to  hi'^  niece 
Pretty  Bodle  .>  " 

"And   a'    she    has    might    hae     been    in    our 
^  Cuif.     Simpleton. 


VOL.   I. 


98 


THE  ENTAIL 


family  but  for  this  misfortune.  When  I  think  o' 
the  loss,  and  how  pleased  her  father  was  when  I 
proposed  Charlie  for  her,  it's  enough  to  gar  me 
tak  some  desperate  step  to  punish  the  contuma- 
cious reprobate.     He'll  break  my  heart." 

"Dear  keep  me,  gudeman,  but  ye're  mair 
fashed  than  I  could  hae  thought  it  was  in  the 
power  o'  nature  for  you  to  be,"  said  Mrs. 
Walkinshaw,  surprised  at  his  agitation. 

'^  The  scoundrel !  the  scoundrel ! "  said  Claud, 
walking  quickly  across  the  room.  ''  To  cause 
sic  a  loss  !  To  tak'  nae  advice  !  To  run  sic  a 
ram-race !  I  ought,  I  will,  gar  him  fin'  the 
weight  o'  my  displeasure.  Betty  Bodle's  tocher 
would  hae  been  better  than  the  Grippy.  But  he 
shall  suffer  for't — I  seena  why  a  father  mayna 
tak'  his  own  course  as  weel  as  a  son.  I'll  no 
be  set  at  nought  in  this  gait.  I'll  gang  in  to 
Mr  Keelevin  the  morn." 

'^Dinna  be  ouer  headstrong,  my  dear,  but 
compose  yoursel',"  said  the  lady,  perplexed,  and 
in  some  degree  alarmed,  at  the  mention  of  the 
lawyer's  name. 

"Compose  thysel',  Girzy,  and  no  meddle  wi' 
me,"  was  the  answer,  in  a  less  confident  tone 
than  the  declaration  he  had  just  made  ;  adding — 

"  I  never  thought  he  would  hae  used  me  in 
this  way.  I'm  sure  I  was  aye  indulgent  to 
im. 

"Overly  sae,"  interrupted  Mrs  Walkinshaw, 
"and  often  I  told  you  that  he  would  gie  you  a 


THE  7    .TAIL 


99 


hct  heart  for't,   and  noo  ye   see   my  words  hae 
come  to  pass." 

Claud  scowled  a*,  her  with  a  look  of  the  fiercest 
aversion,  for  at  that  moment  tlie  better  feelings 
of  his  nature  yearned  towards  Charles,  and  almost 
overcame  the  sordid  avidity  with  which  he  had 
resolved  to  cut  him  off  from  his  birthright,  and 
to  entail  the  estate  of  Grippy  with  the  Plealands 
on  Walter — an  intention  which,  as  we  have  before 
mentioned,  he  early  formed,  and  had  never  aban- 
doned, being  merely  deterred  from  carrying  it  into 
effect  by  a  sense  of  shame,  mingled  with  affec- 
tion, and  a  slight  reverence  for  natural  justice : 
all  which,  however,  were  loosened  from  their  hold 
in  his  conscience  by  the  warranty  which  the  im- 
prudence of  the  marriage  seemed  to  give  him  in 
the  eyes  of  the  world,  for  doing  what  he  had  so 
long  desired  to  do.  Instead,  however,  of  making 
her  any  reply,  he  walked  out  into  the  open  air, 
and  continued  for  about  half-an-hour  to  traverse 
the  green  in  front  of  the  house,  sometimes  with 
quick,  short  steps,  at  others  with  a  slow  and  heavy 
pace.  Gradually,  however,  his  motion  became 
more  regular,  nd  ultimately  ended  in  a  sedate 
and  firm  tread,  which  indicated  that  his  mind  was 
made  up  on  the  question  which  he  had  been 
debating  with  hinijself. 


CHAPTEK  XVIII 

JL  HAT  abysm  of  legal  dubieties,  the  office  of 
Mr  Keelevin,  the  writer,  consisted  of  two  obscure 
apartments  on  the  ground  floor  of  McGregor's 
Land,  in  M'^Whinnie's  Close,  in  the  Gallowgate. 
The  outer  room  was  appropriated  to  the  clerks, 
and  the  inner  for  the  darker  mysteries  of  con- 
sultation. To  this  place  Claud  repaired  on  the 
day  following  the  interesting  communication  of 
which  we  have  recorded  the  first  impressions  in 
the  foregoing  chapter.  He  had  ordered  breakfast 
to  be  ready  an  hour  earlier  than  usual ;  and  as 
soon  as  he  had  finished  it  he  went  to  his  scrutoire, 
and  taking  out  his  title-deeds,  put  them  in  his 
pocket,  and,  without  saying  anything  to  his  wife 
of  what  he  intended  to  do,  lifted  his  hat  and 
stick  from  their  accustomed  place  of  repose  in 
the  corner  of  the  dining-room,  and  proceeded,  as 
we  have  said,  to  consult  Mr  Keelevin. 

It  is  not  the  universal  opinion  of  mankind  that 
the  profession  of  the  law  is  favourable  to  the 
preservation  of  simplicity  of  character  or  of  bene- 
volence of  disposition ;  but  this,  no  doubt,  arises 
from  the  malice  of  disappointed  clients,  who,  to 

100 


THE  ENTAIL 


101 


i  office  of 
ro  obscure 
l^Gregor's 
allowgate. 
;he  clerks, 
is  of  con- 
2d  on  the 
lication  of 
•essions  in 

breakfast 
il ;  and  as 

scrutoire, 
em  in  his 

I  his  wife 
hat  and 

repose  in 
ceeded,  as 

ikind  that 
le  to  the 
r  of  bene- 
ubt,  arises 
s,  who,  to 


shield  themselves  from  the  consequences  of  their 
own  unfair  courses,  pretend  that  the  wrongs  and 
injustice  of  which  they  either  are  found  guilty  or 
are  frustrated  in  the  attempt  to  effect  are  owing 
to  the  faults  and  roguery  of  their  own  or  of  their 
adversaries'  lawyers.  But  why  need  we  advocate 
any  revision  of  the  sentence  pronounced  upon  the 
hnibs  of  the  law  ?  For,  grasping  as  they  do  the 
whole  concerns  and  interests  of  the  rest  of  the 
community,  we  think  they  are  sufficiently  armed 
with  claws  and  talons  to  defend  themselves.  All, 
in  fact,  that  we  meant  by  this  apologetic  insinua- 
tion was  to  prepare  the  reader  for  the  introduction 
of  Mr  Keelevin,  on  whom  the  corrosive  sublimate 
of  a  long  and  thorough  professional  insight  of  all 
kinds  of  equivocation  and  chicanery  had  in  no 
degree  deteriorated  from  the  purity  of  his  own 
unsuspicious  and  benevolent  nature.  Indeed,  at 
the  very  time  that  Claud  called,  he  was  rebuking 
his  young  men  on  account  of  the  cruelty  of  a  con- 
trivance they  had  made  to  catch  a  thief  that  was 
in  the  nocturnal  practice  of  opening  the  window 
of  their  office,  to  take  away  what  small  change 
they  were  so  negligent  as  to  leave  on  or  in  their 
desks ;  and  they  were  not  only  defending  them- 
selves, but  remonstrating  with  him  for  having 
rendered  their  contrivance  abortive.  For,  after 
they  had  ingeniously  constructed  a  trap  within 
the  window,  namely,  a  footless  table,  over  which 
the  thief  must  necessarily  pass  to  reach  their 
desks,  he  had  secretly  placed  a  pillow  under  it,  in 


102 


THE  ENTAIL 


order  that,  when  it  fell  down,  the  robber  miglit 
not  hurt  himself  in  the  fall. 

"  Gude-morning,  gude-mornin^,  Mr  Keelevin. 
How're  ye  the  day  ?  "  said  Claud  as  he  entered. 

"  Gaily,  gaily,  Grippy.  How're  ye  yoursel',  and 
how's  a'  at  hame  ?  Come  awa  ben  to  my  room," 
was  the  writer's  answer,  turning  round  and  open- 
ing the  door ;  for  experience  had  taught  him  that 
visits  from  acquaintances  at  that  hour  were  not 
out  of  mere  civility. 

Claud  stepped  in,  and  seated  himself  in  an  old 
armed  chair  which  stood  on  the  inner  side  of  the 
table  where  Mr  Keelevin  himself  usually  wrote ; 
and  the  lawyer  followed  him,  after  saying  to  the 
clerks,  "  I  redde  ye,  lads,  tak  tent  to  what  I  hae 
been  telling  you,  and  no  encourage  yourselves  to 
the  practice  of  evil  that  good  may  come  o't.  To 
devise  snares  and  stratagems  is  most  abominable : 
all  that  ye  should  or  ought  to  do  is  to  take  such 
precautions  that  the  thief  may  not  enter ;  but  to 
wile  him  into  the  trap,  by  leaving  the  window 
unfastened,  was  nothing  less  than  to  be  the  cause 
of  his  sin.  So  I  admonish  you  no  to  do  the  like 
o't  again." 

In  saying  this  he  came  in,  and,  shutting  the 
door,  took  his  own  seat  at  the  opposite  side  of 
the  table,  addressing  himself  to  Claud — "  And  so 
ye  hae  gotten  your  auld  son  married  ?  I  hope 
it's  to  your  satisfaction." 

"  An  he  has  brewed  good  yill,  ^  Mr  Keelevin, 

1  YilL     Ale. 


he'll  dru 
hae  com 
that  I  w( 
"That 
for,  sin' 
was  mad( 
stand,  a' 
both  heri 
"  And 
troubled 
about  it 
Mr  Keel 
(k)^'  to  th 
Omit,  thj 
lings  and 
ne'er  cou 
the  pith  I 
and  over 
his  back 
maun  pu 
in  the  I 
mak  som 
"We'l 
Hae  ye  i 
would  w 
"No; 
property 
them, 
we'll  nc 

1  Wir 

2  Sice 


THE  ENTAIL 


1 0.'i 


)ber  mifrht 

Keelevin. 
entered, 
ursel',  and 
my  room," 
and  open- 
t  him  tliat 

were  not 

in  an  old 
ide  of  the 
lly  wrote ; 
ng  to  tlie 
hat  I  hue 
rselves  to 
!  o't.     To 
)minable  : 
;ake  such 
r ;  but  to 
;  window 
the  cause 

the  like 

;ting  the 

i  side  of 

■'And  so 

I  hope 

keelevin, 


he'll  drink  the  better,"  was  the  reply;  "but  I 
bae  come  to  consult  you  anent  a  bit  alteration 
that  I  would  fain  make  in  my  testament." 

"  That's  no  a  matter  of  great  difficulty,  laird  ; 
for,  sin'  we  found  out  that  the  deed  of  tiitail  that 
was  made  after  your  old  son  was  born  can  never 
stand,  a'  ye  have  is  free  to  be  destined  as  ye  will, 
both  heritable  and  movable." 

"  And  a  lucky  discovery  that  was  !  Many  a 
troubled  thought  I  hae  had  in  my  own  breast 
about  it ;  and  now  I'm  come  to  confer  wi'  you, 
Mr  Keelevin,  for  I  wouldna  trust  the  hair  o'  a 
(lo<;  to  the  judgment  o'  that  tavert  bodie,  Gibby 
Omit,  that  gart  me  pay  nine  pounds  seven  shil- 
lings and  saxpence,  too,  for  the  parchment — for  it 
ne'er  could  be  called  an  instrument,  as  it  hadna 
the  pith  o'  a  windlestrae  ^  to  bind  the  property — ; 
and  over  and  aboon  that,  the  bodie  has  lang  had 
his  back  to  the  wa'  wi*  the  'poplexy  :  so  that  I 
maun  put  my  trusj  in  this  affair  into  your  hands, 
in  the  hope  and  confidence  that  ye're  able  to 
mak  something  mair  siccar."  ^ 

"We'll  do  our  endeavour,  Mr  Walkinshaw. 
Hae  ye  made  ony  sort  o'  scantling  ^  o'  what  you 
would  wish  done  ?  " 

"  No ;  but  I  hae  brought  the  teetles  o'  the 
property  in  my  pouch,  and  yeTl  just  conform  to 
them.  As  for  the  bit  saving  of  lying  money, 
we'll  no  fash  wi'   it  for  the  present ;    I'm  only 

^  Windlestrae.     The  crested  dog's-tail  grass. 

^  Siccar.     Secure.  3  Scantling.     Roiigh  draft. 


104 


THE  ENTAIL 


l()()kiii«r  to  f»et  a  solid  and  ri<rlit  entail  o'  tin- 
heritable." 

"  Nothing  can  he  easier.  Come,  as  yc're  o'  an 
ancient  family,  no  doubt  your  intent  is  to  settle 
the  (/rip})y  on  the  male  line,  and,  failin^]^  your 
sons  and  their  heirs,  then  on  the  lieirs  of  the 
body  of  your  daughter." 

''Just  sae,  just  sae.  I'll  make  no  chan<Te  on 
my  original  disposition  ;  only,  as  I  would  fain  hae 
what  cam  by  the  gudewife  made  part  and  portion 
o'  tlie  family  heritage,  and  as  her  father's  settle- 
ment on  Watty  eanna  be  broken  without  a  great 
risk,  I  would  like  to  begin  the  entail  o'  the 
Grippy  wi'  him." 

•'  I  see  nothing  to  prevent  that ;  ye  could  gie 
Charlie,  the  auld  son,  his  liferent  in't,  and  as 
Watty  (no  to  speak  disrespectful  of  his  capacity) 
may  ne'er  marry,  it  might  be  so  managed." 

"  Oh,  but  that's  no  what  I  mean  ;  and  what 
for  mayna  Watty  marry  r  Isna  lie  o'  capacity 
to  execute  a  deed,  and  surely  that  should  qualify 
him  to  take  a  wife  .'* " 

"But  heavens  preserve  me,  Mr  Walkinshaw, 
are  ye  sensible  of  the  ill  ye  would  do  to  that  fine 
lad,  his  auld  brother,  tiiat's  now  a  married  man, 
and  in  the  way  to  get  heirs  "^  Sic  a  settlement  as 
ye  speak  o'  would  be  cutting  him  off  a'thegither  : 
it  would  be  most  iniquitous." 

"  An  it  should  be  sae,  the  property  is  my  own 
conquesting,  Mr  Keelevin,  and  surely  I  may  niak 
a  kirk  and  a  mill  o't  an  I  like." 


M 


"  Nol 
right  to 
but  I  v^l 

sic  an 
justice 
most  ex| 
"  Kxtl 
my  fan] 
when  h( 
"I   ai 
you  ;  bu 
has  niai 
estimati 
"Ay, 
the  fath 
"Tha 
shaw,  w 
way  to  ( 
"A'  1 
didna  d 
anent  tl 
want  yo 
first,  ye' 
syne  on 
them,  y 
the  hei 
Meg's  1 
"  Mr 
after  a 
Christie 
1 


THE  ENTAIL 


1(»") 


ritail    ()'    the 


« N()l)()(ly,  it's  true,  Mr  Walkinshaw,  has  ony 
ri'rht  to  mt'ddle  wi*  how  ye  dispoiu'  of  your  own  ; 
but  I  was  thinkin«]f  ye  maybe  didiia  roHoct  that 
sic  an  entail  as  ye  speak  o'  would  be  rank  in- 
justice to  poor  Charlie,  that  I  hae  aye  thought  a 
most  excellent  lad." 

"  Excellent  here,  or  excellent  there,  it  wasna 
my  fault  that  he  drew  up  wi'  a  tocherless  tawpy,^ 
when  he  might  hae  had  Miss  Betty  Bodle." 

"  I  am  very  sorry  to  hear  he  has  displeased 
you ;  but  the  Fatherlans  family,  into  whilk  he 
has  married,  has  aye  been  in  great  repute  and 
estimation." 

"  Ay,  afore  the  Ayr  Bank  ;  but  the  silly  bodie 
the  father  was  clean  broken  by  that  venture." 

"  That  should  be  the  greater  reason,  Mr  Walkin- 
shaw, wi'  you  to  let  your  estate  go  in  the  natural 
way  to  Charlie." 

"A'  that  may  be  very  true,  Mr  Keelevin.  I 
didna  come  here,  however,  to  confer  with  you 
anent  the  like  of  that,  but  only  of  the  law.  I 
want  you  to  draw  the  settlement,  as  I  was  saying : 
first,  ye'll  entail  it  on  Walter  and  his  heirs-male ; 
syne  on  Geordie  and  his  heirs-male  ;  and,  failing 
them,  ye  may  gang  back,  to  please  yoursel',  to 
the  heirs-male  o'  Charlie,  and  failing  them,  to 
Meg's  heirs-general." 

"  Mr  Walkinshaw,"  said  the  honest  writer 
after  a  pause  of  about  a  minute,  '^there's  no 
Christianity  in  this." 

^  Toch&iess  tawpy.     Dowcrless,  worthless  lass. 


106 


THE  ENTAIL 


"But  there  may  be  law,  I  hope." 

"  1  think,  Mr  W'alkirisliaw,  my  good  and 
worthy  friend,  that  you  should  reflect  well  on 
this  matter,  for  it  is  a  thing  by-ordmar  to  do." 

"  But  ye  ken,  Mr  Keelevin,  when  Watty  dies, 
the  Grippy  and  the  Plealands  will  be  a'  ae 
heritage,  and  willna  that  be  a  braw  thing  for 
my  family  "^  " 

"■  But  what  for  would  ye  cut  off  poor  Charlie 
from  his  rightful  inheritance  }  " 

"Me  cut  him  off  frae  his  inheritance  !  When 
my  grandfather  brake  on  account  o'  the  Darien, 
then  it  was  that  he  lost  his  inheritance.  He'll 
get  frae  me  a'  that  I  inherited  frae  our  forebears, 
and  maybe  mair ;  only,  I'll  no  alloo  he  has  ony 
heritable  right  on  me  but  what  stands  with  my 
pleasure  to  gie  him  as  an  almous." 

"  But  consider,  he's  your  own  first-born " 

"  Weel,  then,  what  o'  that  }  " 


(( 


And  it  stands  with  nature,  surely,  Mr  Walkin- 
shaw,  that  he  should  hae  a  bairn's  part  o'  your 
gear." 

"  Stands  wi'  nature,  Mr  Keelevin }  A  coat 
o'  feathers  or  a  pair  o'  hairy  breeks  is  a'  the 
bairn's  part  o'  gear  that  I  ever  heard  o'  in 
nature,  as  the  fowls  o'  the  air  and  the  beasts  o' 
the  field  can  very  plainly  testify.  No,  no,  Mr 
Keelevin,  we're  no  now  in  a  state  o'  nature  but 
a  state  o'  law,  and  it  w^ould  be  an  unco  thing  if 
we  didna  make  the  best  o't.  In  short,  ye' 11  just 
get  the  settlements  drawn  up  as  soon  as  possi- 


bility wil 
wi'  sic 
Watty  11 
mented.  | 
"Watt 
somewhf 

him.     I 
before  wj 

*a'm 
Mr  Keel 
cerity  ; 
found  ou 
deed,  as 
creature 
for't  you 
and  see 
right  and 
"  Watt 
"  Have 
that  the 
made    oi 
mancos   » 
like  o'  th 
settleme: 
clear  ant 
but  he  1 
for  he's 
what  I  \ 
by  the 
gang  th( 


THE  ENTAIL 


107 


good  and 
2ct  well  on 
r  todo." 
Watty  dies, 
1  be  a'  ae 
V   thing  for 

oor  Charlie 

2e !  When 
ihe  Darien, 
ace.  He'll 
r  forebears, 
16  has  ony 
Is  with  my 

rn " 

Ir  Walkin- 
art  o'  your 

A  coat 

is  a'  the 

ard    o'    ill 

beasts  o' 

),  no,  Mr 

ature  but 

o  thing  if 

ye'll  just 

as  possi- 


bility will  alloo ;  for  it  doesna  do  to  lose  time 
wi'  sic  things,  as  ye  ken,  and  I'll  come  in  wi' 
Watty  neist  market-day  and  get  thera  imple- 
mented." 

"Watty's  no  requisite,"  said  Mr  Keelevin 
somewhat  thoughtfully  ;  "  it  can  be  done  without 
him.  I  really  wish  ye  would  think  better  o't 
before  we  spoil  any  paper.' 

"  I'm  no  fear't  about  the  paper  in  your  hands, 
Mr  Keelevin  :  ye'll  do  everything  right  wi'  sin- 
cerity ;  and  mind,  an  it  should  be  afterwards 
found  out  that  there  are  ony  flaws  in  the  new 
deed,  as  there  were  in  the  auld,  which  the  doited 
creature  Gibby  Omit  made  out,  I'll  gar  you  pay 
for't  yoursel'.  So  tak  tent,  for  your  own  sake, 
and  see  that  baith  Watty's  deed  and  mine  are 
right  and  proper  in  every  point  of  law." 

"  Watty's  !     What  do  you  mean  by  Watty's  }  " 

"  Havena  I  been  telling  you  that  it's  my  wish 
that  the  Plealands  and  the  Grippy  should  be 
made  one  heritage,  and  isna  Watty  concos 
mancos  enough  to  be  conjunct  wi'  me  in  the 
like  o'  that }  Ye  ken  the  flaw  in  his  grandfather's 
settlement,  and  that,  though  the  land  has  come 
clear  and  clean  to  him,  yet  it's  no  sae  tethered 
but  he  may  wise  ^  it  awa  as  it  likes  him  to  do, 
for  he's  noo  past  one-and-twenty.  Therefore, 
what  I  want  is,  that  ye  will  mak  a  paper  for  him, 
by  the  whilk  he's  to  'gree  that  the  Plealands 
gang  the  same  gait,  by  entail,  as  the  Giippy. 

1  Wue.    Will 


108 


THE  ENTAIL 


"As  in  duty  bound,  Mr  Walkinshaw,  I  maun 
do  your  will  in  this  business,"  said  Mr  Keelevin; 
''but  really  I  kenna  when  I  hae  been  more 
troubled  about  the  specialities  of  any  settlement 
It's  no  right  o'  you  to  exercise  your  authority 
Guer  Watty :  the  lad's  truly  no  in  a  state  to  be 
called  on  to  implement  ony  such  agreement  as 
what  ye  propose.  He  shouldna  be  meddled  \\\\ 
but  just  left  to  wear  out  his  time  in  the  world, 
as  little  observed  as  possible." 

"  I  canna  say,  Mr  Keelevin,  that  I  like  to  hear 
you  misliken  the  lad  sae ;  for  didna  ye  yourself, 
with  an  ettling  of  pains  ^  that  no  other  body 
could  hae  gane  through  but  yoursel',  prove,  to 
the  satisfaction  of  the  Fifteen  at  Edinburgh, 
that  he  was  a  young  man  of  a  very  creditable  in- 
tellect, when  Plealands'  will  was  contested  by  his 
cousin  }  " 

"  Waes  me,  Mr  Walkinshaw,  that  ye  should 
cast  up  to  me  the  sincerity  with  which  I  did  but 
my  duty  to  a  client.  However,  as  ye' re  bent  on 
this  business,  I'll  say  na  mair  in  objection,  but 
do  my  best  to  make  a  clear  and  tight  entail, 
according  to  your  instructions — trusting  that  I 
shall  be  accounted  hereafter  as  having  been  but 
the  innocent  agent.  And  yet  I  beg  you  again,  be- 
fore it's  ouer  late,  to  reflect  on  the  consequence 
to  that  fine  lad  Charlie,  who  is  now  the  head  of 
a  house  and  in  the  way  of  having  a  family.  It's 
an  awfu'  thing  ye're  doing  to  him." 

^  Eitling  of  pains.    Pains  of  striving  {ettling). 


'( Wee] 
(linna   y 
papers   ii 
ye  think  I 
Charlie  '4 

'^t's 
the  worl 
to  him." 
"  And 
this  is  d( 
sleight  o 
movables 
this  to  b( 
"  Man 
ken  that 
clearing  ' 
that  ye  li 
to  hear  y 
true  fath 
that  I  cs 
this  crot< 
to  the  p 
Charlie, 
mair  abo 
bv  Wedi 
to  see  tl 
"Na, 
your  OM 
will  I  pf 
they  are 

1  Can 


sal 


THE  ENTAIL 


109 


haw,  I  maun 
dr  Keelevin; 

been  rnoro 
y  settlement. 
>ur  authority 

state  to  be 
greement  as 
meddled  wi', 
n  the  world, 

like  to  Jiear 

ye  yourself^ 

other  body 

r,  prove,  to 

Edinburifh, 

reditable  in- 

ssted  by  his 

ye  should 
b  I  did  but 
're  bent  on 
ection,  but 
ght  entail, 
;ing  that  I 
J  been  but 
1  again,  be- 
3nsequence 
le  head  of 
mily.      It's 


"  Weel,  weel,  Mr  Keelevin,  as  I  was  saying, 
(linna  ye  fash  your  thumb,  but  mak  out  the 
papers  in  a  siccar  manner ;  and  maybe,  though 
ye  think  sae  ill  o'  me,  it  winna  be  the  waur  for 
Charlie  after  a's  come  and  gane." 

"  It's  in  the  Lord's  power,  certainly,"  replied 
the  worthy  lawyer  piously,  *'to  make  it  all  up 
to  him." 

•'  And  maybe  it's  in  my  power  too ;  for  "when 
this  is  done,  I'll  liae  to  take  another  cast  ^  o'  your 
sleiuht  o'  hand  in  the  way  of  a  bit  will  for  the 
movables  and  lying  siller.  But  I  would  just  like 
this  to  be  weel  done  first." 

"  Man,  laird,  I'm  blithe  to  hear  that ;  but  ye 
ken  that  ye  told  me  last  year,  when  you  were 
clearing  the  wadset  ^  that  was  left  on  the  Gripjiy, 
that  ye  hadna  muckle  mair  left.  But  I'm  blithe 
to  hear  ye're  in  a  condition  to  act  the  part  of  a 
true  father  to  a'  your  bairns ;  though  I  maun  say 
that  I  canna  approve,  as  a  man  and  a  frien',  of 
tliis  crotchet  of  entailing  your  estate  on  a  haverel, 
to  the  prejudice  of  a  braw  and  gallant  lad  like 
(  harlie.  Howsever,  sin'  it  is  sae,  we'll  say  nae 
mair  about  it.  The  papers  will  be  ready  for  you 
by  Wednesday  come  eight  days,  and  I'll  tak  care 
to  see  they  are  to  your  wish." 

"  Na,  an  ye  dinna  do  that,  the  cost  shall  be  on 
your  own  risk ;  for  the  dcil  a  plack  or  bawbee 
will  I  pay  for  them  till  I  hae  a  satisf^iction  that 
they  are  as  they  ought  to  be.     Howsever,  gude- 

1  Cast.     Aid  by  the  way.  -  Wadset.    Reversion. 


no 


THE  ENTAIL 


day,  Mr  Keelevin,  and  we'll  be  wi'  you  on  Wed- 
nesday by  ten  o'clock." 

In  saying  this,  Claud,  who  had  in  the  mean- 
time risen  from  his  seat,  left  the  office  without 
turning  his  head  towards  the  desk  where  the 
clerks,  as  he  walked  through  the  outer  room, 
were  sitting,  winking  at  one  another,  as  he 
plodded  past  them,  carrying  his  staff  in  his  left 
hand  behind  him,  a  habit  which  he  had  acquired 
with  his  ellwand  when  he  travelled  the  Borders 
as  a  pedlar. 


On  the 

had   been 
entail  Gri 
his  wife,  < 
in  mind,  s 

]      ^'Vm  t\ 
reason  to  \ 

;  made  for 
noo,  we  m; 
To  this 

I  the  most  i 

]  made  in  h( 

^  lated  grun 

and   natur 

continued- 

"But,  p 

I  would  fc 

1  hae  to  try 
neuk  o'  y< 
miss  t. 
"  I  hae  t 

I  he,  somew] 


I  on  Wed- 


the  mean- 
ce  without 
where  the 
iter  room, 
er,  as  he 
in  his  left 
d  acquired 
tie  Borders 


CHAPTER    XIX 

UN  the  Saturday  evening  after  the  instruction'^ 
had  been  given  to  prepare  the  new  deed  of 
entail  Grippy  was  thoughtful  and  silent ;  and 
his  wife,  observing  how  much  he  was  troubled 

I  in  mind,  said — 

''I'm  thinking,  gu  le  >  m,  though  ye  hae  no 
reason  to  be  pleased  with  this  match  Charlie  has 

j!  made  for  hinisel',  ye  ken,  as  it  canna  be  helpit 
noo,  we  maun  just  put  up  wi'  't," 

To  this  observation,  which  was  about  one  of 
the  most  sensible  that  ever  the  leddy  o'  Grippy 
made  in  her  life,  Claud  replied  with  an  ill-articu- 
lated grumph  that  partook  more  of  the  sound 
and  nature  of  a  groan  than  a  growl ;  and  she 
continued — 

"  But,  poor  laddie,  bare  legs  need  happing ! 
I  would  fain  hope  ye'll  no  be  ouer  dure ;  ye'll 
hae  to  try  an  there  be  any  moolly  ^  pennies  in  the 
neuk  o'  your  coffer  that  can  be  spared  and  no 
miss  t. 

"  I  hae  thought  o'  that,  Girzy,  my  dawty,"  said 
he,  somewhat  more  cordially  than  he  was  in  the 

1  Moolly,  for  want  of  using. 
Ill 


112 


THE  ENTAIL 


practice  of  doing  to  his  wife;  "and  we'll  giuvr 
ouer  the  morn  and  speer  for  Charlie.  I  wish  lit 
hadna  been    so    Iieadstron<r ;    but   it's   a'   his  ; 


am 


fault,  riowsever,  it  wouldna  be  canny  to  gaiii: 
toom-handed  ;  ^  and  I  hae  got  a  bit  bill  for  five- 
score j)ounds  that  I'm  mindit  to  gic  him." 

"  Fivescore  pounds^  gudeman  !  that's  the  whnle 
tot  o'  a  hundred.  Na,  gudeman,  I  would  hae 
thought  the  half  o't  an  unco  almous  frae  you.  I 
hope  it's  no  a  feedom  afore  death.  Gude  pre- 
serve us  !  ye're  really  ta'en  wi'  a  fit  o'  the  libera- 
lities ;  but  Charlie,  or  I'm  mista'en,  will  hae 
need  o't  a,  for  yon  Flanders  baby  is  no  for  a  poor 
man's  wife.  But  for  a'  that,  I'm  blithe  to  think 
ye're  gaun  to  be  sae  kind ;  though  I  needna 
wonder  at  it,  fo"i*  Charlie  was  aye  your  darling 
chevalier  (l\n  sure  nobody  can  tell  what  for),  and 
ye  aye  lookit  down  on  poor  good-natured  Watty." 

"  Haud  that  senseless  tongue  o'  thine,  Girzy. 
Watty's  just  like  the  mither  o't,  a  haverel ;  and  if 
it  werena  more  for  ae  thing  than  anither,  the  deil 
a  penny  would  the  silly  gouk  get  frae  me,  abooii 
an  aliment  to  keep  him  frae  beggary.  But  what's 
ordain't  will  come  to  pass ;  and  it's  no  my  fault 
that  the  swmph  Watty  wasna  Charlie.  But  it's  o' 
nae  use  to  coiTtest  about  the  matter ;  ye'll  be 
ready  betimes  the  morn's  morning  to  gang  in  wi' 
me  to  the  town  to  see  the  young  folks." 

Nothing  more  then  passed ;  but  Claud,  some- 
what to  the  surprise  of  his  lady,  proposed  to  make 

^  Tvovi-handed.     Empty-handed. 


)i 


family 
gudewif* 
made  ar 
■what's  t( 
ben  the 
and  you, 
about  nu 
laddie  fi 
me  to  do 

Thel 
Mrs  Wall 
lay  undis 
sion  1  to 
off,  as  or 
sermon,^ 
thorough! 
it,  followc 
time,  hav 
table  and 
sitting,  w 
him,  reac 
])roduced 
accidental 
the  page  : 
his  own  r 
Mrs  Wall 
record,  sai 

"Atwe< 
he's  no  au 
How   auk 


THE  ENTAIL 


113 


7^ 


we'll   gaii 

I  wish  ht 

a'    his  ain 

ly  to  gaiii: 

lill  for  five- 

Tl. 

5  the  wliole 
would  hae 
rae  you.     I 
Gude  pre- 
the  libera- 
ls   will    hae 
0  for  a  poor 
he  to  think 
I    needna 
our   darliiijf 
at  for),  and 
ed  Watty. ' 

» 

line,   Girzy. 

rel ;  and  if 

er,  the  deil 

me,  abooii 

But  what's 

lo  my  fault 

But  it's  o' 

r ;  ye'U  be 

gang  in  wi' 

aud,   some- 
id  to  make 


family  worship  that  evening.  '^  It's  time  now, 
gudewife,"  said  he,  ''when  we're  in  a  way  to  be 
made  ancestors,  that  w^e  should  be  thinking  o' 
what's  to  come  o'  our  sinful  souls  hereafter.  Cry 
ben  the  servants,  and  I'll  read  a  chapter  to  them 
and  you,  by  way  o'  a  change ;  f:)r  I  kenna  what's 
about  me,  but  this  rash  action  o'  that  thoughtless 
laddie  fashes  me,  and  yet  it  wouldna  be  right  o' 
me  to  do  any  other  way  than  what  I'm  doing." 

The  big  ha'  Bible  was  accordingly  removed  by 
Mrs  Walkinshaw  from  the  slielf  where  it  commonly 
lay  undisturbed  from  the  one  sacramental  occa- 
sion 1  to  the  other ;  and  the  dust  being  blown 
off,  as  on  the  Saturday  night  prior  to  the  action 
sermon,^  she  carried  it  to  the  kitchen  to  be  more 
thorouglily  wiped,  and  soon  after  returned  with 
it,  followed  by  the  servants.  Claud,  in  the  mean- 
time, having  drawn  his  elbow-cliair  close  to  the 
table  and  placed  his  spectacles  on  his  nose,  was 
sitting,  when  the  mistress  laid  the  volume  before 
him,  ready  to  begin.  As  some  little  stir  was 
produced  by  the  servants  taking  their  places,  he 
accidentally  turned  up  the  cover,  and  looked  at 
the  page  in  which  he  had  inserted  the  dates  of 
his  own  marriage  and  the  births  of  his  children. 
Mrs  Walkinshaw,  observing  him  looking  .-it  the 
record,  said — 

"  Vtweel,  Charlie  needna  been  in  sic  n  haste : 
he's  no  auld  enough  yet  to  be  the  head  o'  a  family. 
How   auld    were   ye,    gudeman,    when   we   were 
^  See  Note  A,  Annals  of  the  Parish. 

VOL.   I.  II 


114 


THE  ENTAIL 


marriet  ?  But  he's  no  blest  wi'  the  forethought 
o  you. 

"Will  that  tongue  o'  thine,  Cnrzy,  ne'er  be 
quiet  ?  In  the  presence  o'  thy  Maker,  wheesht ! 
and  pay  attention  while  I  read  a  chapter  of  His 
holy  Word." 

The  accent  in  which  this  was  uttered  imposed 
at  once  silence  and  awe ;  and  when  he  added, 
"  Let  us  worship  God  by  reading  a  portion  of 
the  Scriptures  of  truth/'  as  the  servants  often 
afterwL.rds  said,  ''  he  spoke  like  a  dreadfu' 
divine. 

Not  being,  as  we  have  intimated,  much  in  the 
practice  of  domestic  worship,  Claud  had  avoided 
singing  a  psalm ;  nor  was  he  so  well  acquainted 
with  the  Bible  as  to  be  able  to  fix  on  any  par- 
ticular chapter  or  appropriate  passage  from  re- 
collection. In  this  respect  he  was,  indeed,  much 
inferior  to  the  generality  of  the  Glasgow  mer- 
chants of  that  age ;  for,  although  they  were 
considerably  changed  from  the  austerity  by 
which  their  fathers  had  incurred  the  vengeance 
of  Charles  the  Second's  Government,  they  were 
still  regular  in  the  performance  of  their  religious 
domestic  duties.  Some  excuse,  however,  might 
be  made  for  Claud  on  account  of  his  having  spent 
so  many  years  on  the  English  Borders — a  region 
in  no  age  or  period  greatly  renowned  for  piety, 
though  plentifully  endowed,  from  a  very  ancient 
date,  with  ecclesiastical  mansions  for  the  benefit 
of  the  outlaws  of  the  tw  o  nations.     Not,  however, 


THE  ENTAIL 


115 


\o  insist  on  this  topic  :  instead  of  reverently 
waling  a  portion  with  judicious  care,  he  opened 
the  book  with  a  degree  of  superstitious  trepida- 
tion, and  the  first  passage  which  caught  his  eye 
was  the  thirty-second  verse  of  the  twenty-seventh 
chapter  of  Genesis.  He  paused  for  a  moment ; 
and  the  servants  and  the  family,  also  having 
opened  their  Bibles,  looked  towards  him  in  ex- 
pectation that  he  would  name  the  chapter  he 
intended  to  read  ;  but  he  closed  the  volume  over 
upon  his  hand,  which  he  had  inadvertently  placed 
on  the  text,  and  lay  back  on  his  chair,  unconscious 
of  what  he  had  done,  leaving  his  hand  still  within 
the  book. 

"We're  a'  ready,"  said  Mrs  Walkinshaw ; 
"whar's  the  place?" 

Roused  by  her  observation  from  the  reverie 
into  which  he  had  momentarily  sunk,  without 
reflecting  on  what  he  did,  he  hastily  opened  the 
Bible  by  raising  his  hand,  which  threw  open  the 
leaves,  and  again  he  saw  and  read — 

"  And  Isaac  his  father  said  unto  him,  *  Who  art  thou  1 ' 
and  he  said,  *  I  am  thy  son,  thy  first-born,  Esau  ;' 
"And  Isaac  trembled  very  exceedingly." 


"What's  the  matter  wi'  you,  gudeman ? "  said 
the  leddy.  "  Are  ye  no  weel  ? "  as  he  again 
threw  himself  back  in  his  chair,  leaving  the  book 
open  before  him.  He,  however,  made  no  reply, 
but  only  drew  his  hand  over  his  face  and  slightly 
rubbed  his  forehead. 


116 


THE  ENTAIL 


"  I'm  thinking,  giulem.'in,"  added  the  leddy, 
"as  ye're  no  used  wi'  making  exercise,  it  may  be 
as  weel  for  us  at  the  beginning  to  read  a  chapter 
intil  oursel's." 

"I'll  chapse^  that  place,"  said  Walter,  "vvho 
was  sitting  opposite  to  his  father,  putting,  at  the 
same  time,  unobserved  into  the  book  a  bit  of  stick 
which  he  happened  to  be  sillily  gnawing. 

Claud  heard  what  his  wife  suggested,  but  for 
about  a  minute  made  no  answer.  Shutting  the 
Bible,  without  noticing  the  mark  which  Walter 
had  placed  in  it,  he  said — 

"I'm  thinking  ye're  no  far  wrang,  gudewife. 
Sirs,  ye  may  gae  but  ^  the  house  and  ilk  read  a 
chapter  wi'  sobriety,  and  we'll  begin  the  worshij) 
the  morn's  night,  whilk  is  the  Lord's." 

The  servants  accordingly  retired.  Walter 
reached  across  the  table  to  lay  hold  of  the  big 
Bible  in  order  to  read  his  chapter  where  he  had 
inserted  the  stick  ;  but  his  father  angrily  struck 
him  sharply  over  the  fingers,  saying — 

"  Hast  t'ou  neither  grace  nor  gumshion,^  that 
t'ou  daurs  to  tak  awa  the  Word  o'  God  frae  before 
my  very  face  ?  Look  to  thy  ain  book,  and  mind 
what  it  tells  thee,  an  t'ou  has  the  capacity  of  an 
understanding  to  understand  it." 

Walter,   rebuked   by    the    chastisement,   with- 

1  ru  chapse.  In  the  etiquette  of  children,  I  chapse  at  once 
makes  declaration  of  the  object  of  one's  choice  and  sets  up  a 
claim  to  the  same. 

2  Gae  hut.     Go  to  the  kitchen. 
'^  GumshiAyn.     Understanding. 


THE   ENTAIL 


117 


(Irow  from  tlie  table  ;  and,  taking  a  seat  sulkily 
by  the  fireside,  be<ran  to  turn  over  the  leaves  of 
his  poekct  Bible,  and  from  time  to  time  he  read 
iiuitterin<rly  a  verse  here  and  there  by  the  li;;ht 
of  the  grate.  Mrs  Walkinshaw,  with  Miss  Mei^, 
having  but  one  book  between  them,  drew  their 
chairs  close  to  the  table  ;  and  the  mother,  laying 
her  hand  on  her  daughter's  shoulders,  overlooked 
the  chapter  which  the  latter  had  selected. 

Although  Claud  by  this  time  had  recovered  from 
the  agitation  into  which  he  liad  been  thrown  by 
the  admonition  he  had  (as  it  were)  received  from 
the  divine  oracle,  he  yet  felt  a  profound  emoti(m 
of  awe  as  he  again  stretched  his  hand  towards 
the  sacred  volume,  which  when  he  had  again 
opened,  and  again  beheld  the  selfsame  words,  he 
trembled  very  exceedingly,  in  so  much  that  he 
made  the  table  shake  violently. 

"  In  the  name  of  God,  what's  that  }  "  cried  his 
wife,  terrified  by  the  unusual  motion,  and  raising 
her  eyes  from  the  book  with  a  strong  expression 
of  the  fear  which  she  then  felt. 

Claud  was  so  startled  that  he  looked  v/ildly 
behind  him  for  a  moment,  witn  a  ghastly  and 
superstitious  glare.  Naturally  possessing  a  firm 
and  steady  mind,  however,  his  alarm  scarcely 
lasted  a  moment ;  but  the  p  ous  business  of  the 
evening  was  so  much  disturbed,  and  had  been  to 
himself  so  particularly  striking,  that  he  suddenly 
quitted  the  table  and  left  the  room. 


CHAPTER    XX 

X  HE  Sabbath  morninp^  was  calm  and  clear,  and 
the  whole  face  of  nature  fresh  and  bright.  Every- 
thing was  animated  with  glee ;  and  the  very 
flowers,  as  they  looked  up  in  the  sunshine,  shone 
like  glad  faces.  Even  the  leddy  o'  Grippy  par- 
took of  the  gladdening  spirit  which  glittered  and 
frolicked  around  her ;  and,  as  she  walked  a  few 
paces  in  front  of  her  husband  down  the  footpath 
from  the  house  to  the  highway  leading  to  Glasgow, 
she  remarked,  as  their  dog  ran  gambolling  before 
them,  that — 

"Auld  Colley,  wi'  his  daffing,  looks  as  he  had 
a  notion  o'  the  braw  wissing  o'  joy  Charlie  is  to 
get.  The  brute,  gudeman,  aye  took  up  wi'  him, 
which  was  a  wonderfu*  thing  to  me ;  for  he  did 
nothing  but  weary  its  life  wi'  garring  it  loup  for 
an  everlasting  after  sticks  and  chucky-stanes. 
Howsever,  I  fancy  dogs  are  like  men — leavened, 
as  Mr  Kilfuddy  says,  wi'  the  leaven  of  an  ungrate- 
ful heart — ;  for  Colley  is  as  doddy  and  crabbit 
to  Watty  as  if  he  was  its  adversary,  although, 
as  ye  ken,  he  gathers  and  keeps  a'  the  bancs 

for't." 

118 


THE  ENTAIL 


119 


''Wilt  t'oii  ne'er  devaul'  wi'  tliy  havering 
t()n«;uc  ?  I'm  sure  the  chinib  brute,  in  favouring 
Charlie,  showed  niair  sense  than  his  mother,  poor 
fi'llow." 

"  Ay,  ay,  gudeman,  so  ye  say ;  but  everybody 
knows  your  most  unnatural  partiality." 

"  Thy  tongue,  woman,"  exelaimed  her  husband, 
'^  gangs  like  the  clatterbane  o'  a  goose's 


(( 


Eh,  megsty  me!"  cried  the  leddy ;   "wha's 
yon  at  the  yett  tirling  at  the  pin  ?"  ^ 

Claud,  roused  by  her  interjection,  looked  for- 
ward, and  beheld,  with  some  experience  of  astonish- 
ment, that  it  was  Mr  Keelevin,  the  writer. 

"We'll  hae  to  turn  and  gang  back  with  him," 
said  Mrs  Walkinshaw,  when  she  observed  who 
it  was. 

''I'll  be  d — d  if  I  do  ony  sic  thing,"  growled 
tlie  old  man,  with  a  fierceness  of  emphasis  that 
betrayed  apprehension  and  alarm,  while  at  the 
same  time  it  denoted  a  riveted  determination  to 
persevere  in  the  resolution  he  had  taken ;  and, 
mending  his  pace  briskly,  he  reached  the  gate 
before  the  worthy  lawyer  had  given  himself 
admittance. 

"  Gude-day,  Mr  Keelevin  !  What's  brought  you 
so  soon  afield  this  morning  }  " 

"I  hae  just  ta'en  a  bit  canter  cure  to  see  you, 
and  to  speak  anent  yon  thing." 

Hae  ye  got  the  papers  made  out }  " 

Surely — it  can  never  be  your  serious  intent— 

1  Tirling  at  the  piiu     Working  the  handle  of  the  latch. 


<( 


(C 


120 


THE  ENTAIL 


I  would  fain  hope — nay,  really,  Mr  Walkinshaw, 
ye  maunna  think  o't." 

"  Hoot,  toot,  toot :  I  thoupfht  ye  had  ma> 
sense,  Mr  Keclevin.  But  I'm  sorry  we  cannu 
gae  back  wi'  you,  for  we're  just  sae  far  on  the 
road  to  see  Charlie  and  Iiis  lady  landless." 

"  'Deed  are  we,"  added  Mrs  Walkinshaw  ;  ''  and 
ye'U  no  guess  what  the  gudeman  has  in  his  pouch 
to  gie  them  for  h;vasel  ^  to  their  matrimony  :  the 
whole  tot  of  a  hundred  pound,  Mr  Keelevin — 
what  think  you  o'  that  ?  " 

The  lawyer  looked  first  at  the  leddy,  and  then 
at  tbe  laird,  and  said,  ^' Mr  Walkinshaw,  I  hae 
done  you  wrong  in  my  thought." 

"Say  nae  mair  about  it,  but  hae  the  papers 
ready  by  Wednesday,  as  I  directed,"  replied 
Claud. 

''  I  hope  and  trust,  Mr  Keelevin,"  said  Mrs 
Walkinshaw,  "  that  he's  no  about  his  will  and 
tesf-amcnt.  I  redde  ye,  an  he  be,  see  that  I'm 
no  negleckil;  and  dinna  let  him  do  an  injustice 
to  the  i.?.ve  ^  for  the  behoof  of  Charlie,  wha  is,  as 
I  say,  his  darling  chevalier." 

Mr  Keelevin  was  as  much  perplexed  as  ever 
any  member  of  the  profession  was  in  his  life ; 
but  he  answered  cheerfully — 

*^  Ye  needna  be  fear't,  Mrs  W^alkinshaw :  I'll 
no  "wrang  either  you  or  any  one  of  the  family;" 


*  Hansel.     First  gift :    implying   that  it  is  an  earnest  of 
more  to  follow. 
2  The  lave.     The  remainder. 


THE   ENTAIL 


liil 


saruGst  of 


and  he  added,  lookiiifif  towards  her  husband,  "if 
I  can  help  it." 

"  Na,  thanks  be  an'  praise,  as  I  understand  the 
l.'iw,  that's  no  in  your  i)ower ;  for  I'm  secured  wi' 
a  jointure  on  the  Cirippy  by  my  marriage  articles  ; 
and  my  father,  in  his  testament,  ordained  me  to 
hae  a  hundred  a  year  out  of  the  harming  ^  o' 
his  lying  money, — the  whilk,  as  I  have  myself 
counted,  brings  in  to  the  gudeman,  frae  the 
>vadset  -  that  he  has  on  the  Kilmarkeckle  estate, 
full  mair  than  a  hundred  and  twenty -seven 
pounds.  So  I  would  wish  both  you  and  him  to 
ken  that  I'm  no  in  your  reverence;"^  and  like- 
wise, too,  Mr  Keelevin,  that  I'll  no  faik^  a 
farthing  o'  my  right." 

Mr  Keelevin  was  still  more  perplexed  at  the 
information  contained  in  this  speech  ;  for  he  knew 
nothing  of  the  mortgage,  or,  as  the  leddy  called 
it,  the  wadset,  which  Claud  had  on  his  neighbour 
Kilmarkeckle's  property,  Mr  Omit  having  been 
employed  by  him  in  that  business.  Indeed,  it 
was  a  regular  part  of  Grippy's  pawkie  policy  not 
to  let  his  affairs  be  too  well  known,  even  to  his 
most  confidential  legal  adviser ;  but,  in  common 
transactions,  to  employ  any  one  who  could  be 
safely  trusted  in  matters  of  ordinary  professional 
routine.  Thus  the  fallacious  impression  which 
Claud  had  in  some  degree  made  on  the  day  in 
which  he  instructed  the  honest  lawyer  respecting 


1  liarmiriih     Interest. 
^  Reverence.    Power. 


2   Wadset.     Rovorsiori. 
*  Faik,    Almto. 


122 


THE  ENTAIL 


the  entail  was,  in  a  great  measure,  confirmed ; 
so  that  Mr  Keelevin,  instead  of  pressing  the  re- 
monstrance which  he  had  qome  on  purpose  from 
Glasgow  that  morning  to  urge,  marvelled  exceed- 
ingly within  himself  at  the  untold  wealth  of  his 
client. 

In  the  meantime   Grippy  and  his  leddy  con- 
tinued walking  towards  the  city ;  but  the  lawyer 
remounted  his  horse,  pondering  on  what  he  had 
heard,  and  almost  persuaded  that   Claud,  whom 
he    knew  to   be    so    close   and   wary  in  worldly 
matters,  was   acting   a   very  prudent   part.     He 
conceived   that  he   must  surely  be  much   richer 
than  the  world  supposed ;   and  that,  seeing  the 
natural  defects  of  his  second  son,  Walter, — how 
little  he  was  superior  to  an  idiot, — and  judging 
he  could   make   no   good   use   of  ready  money, 
but  might,  on  the  contrary,  become  the  prey  of 
knavery,  he  had  perhaps  determined,  very  wisely, 
to  secure  to  him  his  future  fortune  by  the  entail 
proposed,  meaning  to  indemnify  Charles  from  his 
lying  money.     The  only  doubt  that  he  could  not 
clear  off  entirely  to  his  satisfaction  was  the  cir- 
cumstance of  George,  the  youngest   son,   being 
preferred  in  the  limitations  of  the  entail  to  his 
eldest  brother.     But  even  this  admitted  of  some- 
thing like  a  reasonable  explanation ;  for,  by  the 
will  of  the  grandfather,  in  the  event  of  Walter 
dying  without    male    issue,   George  was  entitled 
to   succeed  to   the    Plealands,   as  heir  of  entail ; 
the  effect  of  all  which,  in  the  benevolent  mind  of 


THE  ENTAIL 


li:3 


Iionest  Mr  Keelevin,  contributed  not  a  little  to 
rebuild  the  good  opinion  of  his  client,  which  had 
suffered  such  a  shock  from  the  harshness  of  his 
instructions  as  to  induce  him  to  pay  the  visit 
which  led  to  the  rencounter  described ;  and  in 
consequence  he  walked  his  horse  beside  the  laird 
and  leddy,  as  they  continued  to  pick  their  steps 
along  the  shady  side  of  the  road.  Mrs  Walkin- 
shaw,  with  her  petticoats  lifted  half-leg  high, 
still  kept  the  van,  and  her  husband  followed, 
stooping  forward  in  his  gait,  with  his  staff  in 
his  left  hand  behind  him — the  characteristic  and 
usual  position  in  which,  as  we  have  already  men- 
tioned, he  was  wont  to  carry  his  ellwand  when 
a  pedlar. 


CHAPTER    XXI 

JL  HE  young  couple  were  a  g  od  deal  surprised 
at  the  unexpected  visit  of  their  father  and  mother ; 
for,  although  they  had  been  led  to  hope,  from  tlie 
success  of  the  old  lady's  mission,  that  their  pardon 
would  be  conceded,  they  had  still,  by  hearinfif 
nothing  further  on  the  subject,  passed  the  interval 
in  so  much  anxiety  that  it  had  materially  impaired 
their  iiappiness.  Charles,  who  was  well  aware  of 
the  natural  obduracy  of  his  father's  disposition, 
had  almost  entirely  given  up  all  expectation  of 
ever  being  restored  to  his  favour ;  and  the  despon- 
dency of  the  apprehensions  connected  with  this 
feeling  underwent  but  little  alleviation  when  he 
observed  the  clouded  aspect,  the  averted  eye,  and 
the  momentary  glances,  with  which  his  wife  was 
regarded,  and  the  troubled  looks  from  time  to 
time  thrown  towards  himself.  Nevertheless,  the 
visit,  which  was  at  first  so  embarrassing  to  all 
parties,  began  to  assume  a  more  cordial  character ; 
and  the  generosity  of  Charles's  nature,  which  led 
him  to  give  a  benevolent  interpretation  to  the 
actions  and  motives  of  every  man,  soon  mastered 
his  anxieties :  he  found  himself,  after  the  ice  was 

124 


THE  ENTAIL 


125 


ice  was 


broken,  enabled  to  take  a  part  in  the  raillery  of 
his  mother,  who,  in  high  glee  and  good-humour, 
joked  with  her  blooming  and  blushing  daughter- 
in-law  with  all  the  dexterity  and  delicacy  of  which 
she  was  so  admirable  a  mistress. 

*'Eh!"  said  she,  '^but  this  was  a  galloping 
wedding  o'  yours,  Charlie.  It  was  an  unco-like 
thing.  Bell — na,  ye  needna  look  down,  for  ye 
maunna  expeck  me  to  ca'  you  by  your  lang- 
nebbit  ^  baptismal  name,  now  that  ye're  my  gude- 
dochter — for  ceremony's  a  cauldrife  commodity 
amang  near  freens.  But  surely.  Bell,  it  would 
hae  been  mair  wiselike  had  ye  been  cried  in  the 
kirk  2  three  distinck  Sabbaths,  as  me  and  your 
gudefather  was,  instead  o'  gallanting  awa  under 
the  scog  and  cloud  o'  night,  as  if  ye  had  been 
fain  and  fey.  Howsever,  it's  done  noo ;  and  the 
gudeman  means  to  be  vastly  genteel.  I'm  sure 
the  post  should  get  a  hag  when  we  hear  o'  him 
coming  wi'  hundreds  o'  pounds  in  his  pouch,  to 
gie  awa  for  deil-be-licket  but  a  gratus  gift  o' 
gudewill,  in  handsel  to  your  matrimonial.  But 
Charlie,  your  gudeman,  Bell,  was  aye  his  pet,  and 
so  I'm  nane  surprised  at  his  unnatural  partiality ; 
only  I  ken  they'll  hae  clear  een  and  bent 
brows  that  'ill  see  him  gieing  ony  sic  almous 
to  Watty." 

When  the  parental  visitors  had  sat  about  an 
hour,  during  the  great  part  of  which  the  leddy  o' 

^  Lang-nchhit.     Literally,  having  a  long  nose. 
-  See  Note  A,  Annals  of  the  Parish. 


125 


THE  ENTAIL 


Grippy  continued  in  this  strain  of  clishmaclaver,^ 
the  laird  said  to  her  it  was  time  to  take  the  road 
homeward.  Charles  pressed  them  to  stay  dinner. 
This,  however,  was  decidedly  refused  by  his  father, 
but  not  in  quite  so  gruff  a  manner  as  he  commonly 
gave  his  refusals ;  for  he  added,  giving  Charles 
the  bank-bill,  as  he  moved  across  the  room  to- 
wards the  door, — 

"  Hae,  there's  something  to  help  to  keep  the 
banes  green ;  but  be  careful,  Charlie,  for  I  doubt 
ye'U  hae  need,  noo  that  ye're  the  head  o'  a  family, 
to  look  at  baith  sides  o'  the  bawbee  before  ye 
part  wi't." 

"  It's  for  a  whole  hundred  pound,"  exclaimed 
Lady  Grippy  in  an  exulting  whisper  to  her 
daughter-in-law ;  while  the  old  man,  after  part- 
ing with  the  paper,  turned  briskly  round  to  his 
son,  as  if  to  interrupt  his  thankfulness,  and 
said — 

"  Charlie,  ye  maun  come  wi'  Watty  and  me  on 
Wednesday.  I  hae  a  bit  alteration  to  make  in 
my  papers  ;  and,  as  we  needna  cry  sic  things  at 
the  cross,  I'm  mindit  to  hae  you  and  him  for  the 
witnesses." 

Charles  readily  promised  attendance ;  and  the 
old  people  then  made  their  congees  and  de- 
parted. 

In  the  walk  homeward  Claud  was  still  more 
taciturn  than  in  the  morning  :  he  was  even  sullen, 
and  occasionally  peevish ;    but   his  wife  was    in 

^  Clishmaclaver.     Wordy  nonsense. 


THE  ENTAIL 


127 


laclaver,! 
the  road 
y  dinner, 
lis  father, 
ommonly 
^  Charles 
room  to- 

keep  the 

■  I  douht 

a  family, 

jefore  ye 

xclaimed 
'  to  her 
'ter  part- 
fid  to  his 

less,   and 

id  me  on 
make  in 
hings  at 
n  for  the 

and  the 
and  de- 
ill  more 
in  sullen, 
was    ii) 


full  pipe    and    glee^  and,  as  soon  as  they  were 
1)(  yond  hearing,  said — 

"  Everybody  maun  alloo  that  she's  a  weel-far't  ^ 
lassie  yon ;  and  if  she's  as  good  as  she's  bonny, 
Charlie's  no  to  mean  ^  wi'  his  match,  j^ut,  dear 
me,  gudeman,  ye  were  unco  scrimpit^  Ir.  your 
talk  to  her — I  think  ye  might  hae  been  a  thought 
mair  complaisant  and  jocose,  considering  it  was  a 
inaiTiage  occasion —  ;  and  I  wonder  what  came 
oner  mysel'  that  I  forgot  to  bid  them  come  to  the 
Grippy  and  tak  their  dinner  the  morn,  for  ye  ken 
we  hae  a  side  o'  mutton  in  the  house.  For, 
since  ye  hae  made  a  conciliation  free  gratus  wi' 
them,  we  needna  be  standing  on  stapping-stanes, 
— no  that  I  think  the  less  of  the  het  heart  that 
Charlie  has  gi'en  to  us  baith ;  but  it  was  his 
fortun',  and  we  maun  put  up  wi't.  Howsever, 
gudeman,  ye'U  alloo  me  to  make  an  observe  to 
you  anent  the  hundred  pound.  I  think  it  would 
hae  been  more  prudent  to  hae  gi'en  them  but 
the  half  o't,  or  ony^  smaller  sum,  for  Charlie's  no 
a  very  gude  guide, — siller  wi'  him  gangs  like 
snaw  afF  a  dyke —  ;  and  as  for  his  lilywhite-handit 
madam,  a'  the  jingling  o'  her  spinnet  will  ne'er 
make  up  for  the  winsome  tinkle  o'  Betty  Bodle's 
tocher  purse."*  But  I  hae  been  thinking,  gude- 
man, noo  that  Charlie's  by  hand  and  awa,  as  the 
ballad  o'  Wool  and  Married  and  a'  sings,  couldna 

1  Weel-farH.     Well-favoured. 

2  I'o  mean.     To  be  oondolod  with. 

^  Scrimpit.     Sparing.  ■*  Tocher  purse.     Portion. 


128 


THE  ENTAIL 


ye  persuade  our  Watty  to  mak  up  to  Betty,  and 
sae  get  her  gear  saved  to  us  yet  ?  " 

This  suggestion  was  the  only  wise  thing,  in 
tke  opinion  of  Claud,  that  ever  he  had  heard  his 
wife  utter  :  it  was,  indeed,  in  harmonious  accord- 
ance with  the  tenor  of  his  own  reflections,  not 
only  at  the  moment,  but  from  the  hour  in  which 
he  was  first  informed  of  the  marriage.  For  ho 
knew,  from  the  character  of  Miss  Betty  Bodle's 
father,  that  the  entail  of  the  Grippy  in  favour 
of  Walter  would  be  deemed  by  him  a  satisfactory 
equivalent  for  any  intellectual  defect.  The  dis- 
inheritance of  Charles  was  thus,  in  some  degree, 
palliated  to  his  conscience  as  an  act  of  family 
policy  rather  than  of  resentment.  In  truth,  re- 
sentment had  perhaps  very  little  to  say  in  the 
feeling  by  which  it  was  dictated ;  for,  as  all  he 
did  and  thought  of  in  life  was  with  a  view  to  the 
restoration  of  tlfe  Walkinshaws  of  Kittlestonheugh, 
we  might  be  justified,  for  the  honour  of  human 
nature,  to  believe  that  he  actually  contemplated 
the  sacrifico  which  he  was  making  of  his  first-born 
to  the  Moloch  of  ancestral  pride  with  reluctance 
— nay,  with  sorrow  even. 

In  the  meantime,  as  he  returned  towards  Grippy 
with  his  wife,  thus  discoursing  on  the  subject 
of  Miss  Betty  Bodle  and  Walter,  Charles  and 
Isabella  were  mutually  felicitating  themselves  on 
the  earnest  which  they  had  so  unexpectedly  re- 
ceived of  what  they  deemed  a  thorough  recon- 
ciliation.    There   had,  however,  been  something 


THE  ENTAIL 


129 


so  heartless  in  tlie  behaviour  of  the  old  man  during 
the  visit  that,  notwithstanding?  the  hopes  which 
liis  gift  encouraged,  it  left  a  chill  and  comfortless 
sensation  in  the  bosom  of  the  young  lady,  and  her 
s})irit  felt  it  as  the  foretaste  of  misfortune.  Averse, 
however,  to  occasion  any  diminution  of  the  joy 
which  the  visit  of  his  parents  had  afforded  to  her 
husband,  she  endeavoured  to  suppress  the  bode- 
ment,  and  to  partake  of  the  gladdening  anticipa- 
tions in  which  he  indulged.  The  effort  to  please 
others  never  fails  to  reward  ourselves.  In  the 
afternoon,  when  the  old  dowager  called,  she  was 
delighted  to  find  them  both  satisfied  with  the 
prospect  wdiich  had  so  suddenly  opened,  and  so 
far,  too,  beyond  her  most  sanguine  expectations 
that  she  also  shared  in  their  pleasure,  and  with 
her  grandson  inferred,  from  the  liberal  earnest  he 
had  received,  that,  in  the  papers  and  deeds  he 
was  invited  to  witness,  his  father  intended  to  make 
some  provision  to  enable  him  to  support  the  rank 
in  society  to  which  Is.'.bella  had  been  bom,  and  in 
which  his  own  taste  prompted  him  to  move.  The 
evening,  in  consequence,  was  spent  by  them  with 
all  the  happiness  which  the  children  of  men  so 
often  enjoy  with  the  freest  confidence,  while  the 
snares  of  adversity  are  planted  around  them  and 
the  demons  of  sorrow  and  evil  are  hovering  unseen, 
awaiting  the  signal  from  destiny  to  descend  on 
their  blind  and  unsuspicious  victims. 


VOL,    I. 


CHAPTER   XXII 


(jrRIPPY  pnsrsed  the  interval  between  the  visit 
and  tlie  day  apj)ointed  for  the  execution  of  the 
deeds  of  entail  with  as  much  comfort  of  mind  as 
Heaven  commonly  bestows  on  a  man  conscious 
of  an  unjust  intention,  and  unable  to  excuse  it  to 
himself.  Charles,  who,  in  the  meantime,  naturally 
felt  some  anxiety  to  learn  the  precise  nature  of 
the  intended  settlement,  was  early  afoot  on  the 
morning  of  Wednesday,  and  walked  from  the 
lodgings  where  he  resided  with  his  wife  in  Glasgow 
to  meet  his  father  and  brother,  on  their  way  to 
the  town.  Being  rather  before  the  time  appointed, 
he  went  forward  to  the  house,  on  the  green  j)l<)t 
in  front  of  which  the  old  man  was  standing,  witli 
his  hands  behind  and  his  head  thoughtfully  bent 
downwards. 

The  approach  of  his  son  roused  Claud  from  his 
reverie ;  and  he  went  briskly  forward  to  meet 
him,  shaking  him  heartily  by  the  hand,  and  in- 
quiring, with  more  kindness  than  the  occasion 
required,  for  the  health  of  his  young  wife.  Sucli 
unusual  cordiality  tended  to  confirm  the  delusion 
which  the  gift  of  the  bank  bill  on  Sunday  had 

13U 


THE  ENTAIL 


l.'U 


inspired  ;  l)iit  the  ]mr()xysni  of  .'id'cction,  produci'd 
1)V  the  eflort  to  dis<fuise  tlie  sense  wliioh  the  old 
man  suffered  of  tlie  irreparable  \vron<r  he  wuh  so 
(loijtjedly  resolved  to  eonnnit^  soon  went  off;  and, 
in  the  midst  of  his  conjrratuhitions,  eonscience 
smote  him  with  such  confusion  that  he  was  obliired 
to  turn  away  to  conceal  the  embarrassment  which 
betrayed  the  insincerity  of  the  warmth  he  had 
so  well  assumed.  Poor  C'harles,  however,  was  pre- 
vented from  observing  the  change  in  his  manner 
and  countenance  by  Walter  a|)pearin^  at  the  door 
in  his  Sunday  clothes,  followed  l)y  his  mother, 
with  his  best  hat  in  her  liand,  which  she  was 
snu)othin<r  at  the  same  time  with  the  tail  of 
her  aj)ron. 

"  I  redde  ye,^  my  bairn,"  said  she  to  Walter 
as  she  gave  him  the  hat,  ''  to  take  care  o'  thysel' ; 
for  ye  ken  they're  an  unco  crew  aye  in  the  Tron- 
j;ate  on  Wednesday ;  and  mind  what  I  hae  been 
telling  you  :  no  to  put  your  hand  to  pen  and  ii^k 
unless  Mr  Keelevin  tells  you  it's  to  be  for  your 
advantage  ;  for  Charlie's  your  father's  ain  chevalier, 
and  nae  farther  gane  than  the  last  Lord's  day,  he 
gied  him,  as  I  telt  you,  a  whole  hundred  pound 
for  handsel  to  his  tocherless  matrimony." 

Charles,  at  this  speech,  reddened  and  walked 
back  from  the  house  without  speaking  to  his 
mother ;  but  he  had  not  advanced  many  steps 
towards  the  gate  when  she  cried — 

"  Hey,  Charlie  !  are  ye  sae  muckle  ta'en  up  wi' 
^  Italdc  ye.     Beg  of  you. 


1.32 


THE  ENTAIL 


your  bonny  bride  that  your  mother's  already 
forgotten  ?  " 

He  felt  the  reproof,  and  immediately  turned 
and  went  baek  to  make  some  apology ;  but  sh<; 
prevented  him  by  say  in  f:^ — 

"  See  that  this  is  no  a  Jacob  and  Esau  business, 
Charlie,  and  that  ye  dinna  wran<ij  poor  Watty  ;  for 
he's  an  easy,  troodnatured  lad,  and  will  just  do 
what  either  you  or  his  father  bids  him." 

Charles  laughed,  and  replied — 

"  I  think,  mother,  your  exhortation  should 
rather  be  to  Watty  than  me  ;  for  ye  ken  Jacob 
was  the  youngest,  and  beguiled  his  auld  brother 
of  the  birthright." 

The  old  man  heard  the  remark,  and  felt  it  rush 
through  his  very  soul  with  the  anguish  of  a  barbed 
and  feathered  arrow ;  and  he  exclaimed,  with  an 
accent  of  remorse  as  sharp  and  bitter  as  the  voice 
of  anger, — 

"  Hae  done  wi'  your  clavers,  and  come  awa. 
Do  ye  think  Mr  Keelevin  has  nothing  mair  to  do 
than  to  wait  for  us  while  ye' re  talking  profanity 
and  taigling  ^  at  this  gait  ?  Come  awa,  \^'atty,  ye 
gumshionless  cuif  -  as  ever  father  was  plagued  wi' ; 
and,  Charlie,  my  lad,  let  us  gang  thegither — the 
haverel  will  follow —  ;  for  if  it  hasna  the  collie- 
dog's  sense,  it  has  something  like  its  instinct." 

And  so  saying,  he  stepped  on  hastily  towards 

1  Taif/linr;.     Delaying. 

2  Cuif.     Generally  used  in  the  sense  of  cowardly  fellow; 
here,  evidently,  of  senseless  fellow. 


the  gat 

and    wa 

was  woi 

The  t 

father  w 

and  foil 

at  the  b< 

Durin 

from  the 

their    m 

freedom 

proached 

never  so 

When 

they  fou 

the  desk 

quested 

inner  eh 

'^Noo, 

shut  the 

this  step 

in  the  Ia\ 

fore,  fair 

motive  oi 

less  marr 

Chmd 
slightest 
adding,  '^ 
to   do   m 
catechise 
in  this  mi 


THE  ENTAIL 


]',i'J 


the  gate,  swinging  his  staff  in  his  ri^lit  hand, 
ami  walking  faster  and  more  erectly  than  he 
was  wont. 

The  two  sons,  seeing  the  pace  at  which  their 
father  was  going  forward,  j)arted  from  their  mother 
and  followed  I  im,  Charles  laughing  and  jeering 
at  the  beau  which  VV^alter  had  made  of  himself. 

During  the  journey  the  old  man  kept  aloot 
from  them,  turning  occasionally  round  to  rebuke 
their  mirth ;  for  there  was  something  in  the 
freedom  and  gaiety  of  Charles's  laugh  that  re- 
proached his  sj)irit,  and  the  folly  of  Walter  was 
never  so  disaiireeable  to  him  before. 

When  they  reached  the  office  of  Mr  Keelevin, 
they  found  him  with  the  parchments  ready  on 
the  desk ;  but  before  reading  them  over,  he  re- 
quested the  laird  to  step  in  with  him  into  his 
inner  chamber. 

"Noo,  Mr  Walkinshaw,"  said  he  when  he  had 
shut  the  door,  "  I  hope  ye  have  well  reflected  on 
this  step ;  for  when  it  is  done,  there's  nae  jiower 
in  the  law  o'  Scotland  to  undo  it.  I  would,  there- 
fore, fain  hope  ye're  no  doing  this  out  of  any 
motive  or  feeling  of  resentment  for  the  thought- 
less marriage,  it  may  be,  of  your  auld  son." 

Claud  assured  him  that  he  was  not  in  the 
slightest  degree  influenced  by  any  such  sentiment ; 
adding,  "  But,  Mr  Keelevin,  though  I  employ  you 
to  do  my  business,  I  dinna  think  ye  ought  to 
catechise  me.  Ye're,  as  I  would  say,  but  the  pen 
in  this  matter,  and  the  right  or  the  wrang  o't's  a' 


l.'M. 


THE  ENTAIL 


mv  ain.  I  would  therefore  counsel  yon,  noo  llmt 
the  papers  are  ready,  that  tliey  should  be  imple- 
mented, and  for  that  ])iirpose  I  Jiae  brou^lit  my 
twa  sons  to  be  the  -witnesses  themselves  to  t he- 
act  and  deed." 

Mr  Keelevin  held  up  his  hands,  and,  startini^ 
back,  ^ave  a  deep  sii^h  as  he  said — "  It's  no  j)os- 
sible  that  Charlie  can  be  consenting  to  his  own 
disinheritance,  or  he's  as  daft  as  his  brother." 

"Consenting  here,  or  consenting  there,  ^h• 
Keelevin,"  replied  the  father,  "ye'll  just  bring 
in  the  ])apers  and  read  them  ouer  to  me ;  yc 
needna  fash  to  ca'  ben  the  lads,  for  that  might 
breed  strife  atween  them." 

"  Na !  as  sure's  death,  Mr  Walkinshaw,"  ex- 
claimed the  honest  writer,  with  a  warmth  and 
simplicity  rather  obsok  te  among  his  professional 
brethren  nowad;iys,  howt  v  er  much  they  may 
have  been  distinguished  for  those  qualities  in  the 
innocent  golden  age, — "  Na  '  as  sure's  death,  Mr 
Wallcinshaw,  this  is  niair  than  I  hae  the  con- 
science to  do ;  the  lads  are  parties  to  the  transac- 
tion, by  their  reversionary  interest,  and  it  is  but 
right  and  j)roper  they  should  know  what  they  are 
about." 

"  Mr  Keelevin,  '  cried  the  laird  peevishly, 
"  ye're  surely  growing  doited.^  It  would  be  an 
uneo-like  thing  if  witnesses  to  our  wills  and  tes- 
taments had  a  right  to  ken  what  we  be(jueath. 
Please   God,   neither    Charlie   nor   Watty   sail   be 

^  Doited.    Doted. 


onv  th( 
the  bre; 

<'  We 
"ye'll  t 
ve  led  1 
power  t 
of  this  ^ 
lose  no 

"  Mr 
brief  an 
this  adi) 
brouaht 


Durii 


afflicted 
voice  in 
at  the  e 
task  of 
he  calle 
accent,  . 
Charles  i 
once  sigi 
the  livir 
pen  was 

"  Wh;i 
mindful 
to    ken 
payment 

'''  T'on 
t'ou  no  c 

"I'll 


M. 


THE  ENTAIL 


135 


ony  the  wiser  o'  this  day's  purpose,  as  hin«r  as 
the  breath's  in  my  body." 

''Weel,  Mr  Walkinshaw,"  replied  the  lawyer, 
"yell  tak  your  own  way  o't,  I  see  that;  but,  as 
ye  led  me  to  believe,  I  hope  an'  trust  it's  in  your 
power  to  make  up  to  Charles  the  consequences 
of  this  very  extraordinary  entail,  and  I  hope  ye' 11 
lose  no  time  till  ye  hae  done  sae." 

"  Mr  Keelevin,  ye'll  read  the  papers,"  was  the 
brief  and  abrupt  answer  which  Claud  made  to 
tliis  admonition  ;  and  the  papers  were  accordingly 
brought  in  and  read. 

During  the  reading  Claud  was  frequently 
afflicted  by  the  discordant  cheerfulness  of  Charles's 
voice  in  the  outer  room,  joking  with  the  clerks 
at  the  expense  of  his  fortunate  brother ;  but  the 
task  of  aforesaids  and  hereafters  being  finished, 
lie  called  them  in,  with  a  sharp  and  peevish 
accent,  and  signed  the  deeds  in  their  presence. 
Charles  took  the  j)en  from  his  father,  and  also  at 
once  signed  as  witness,  while  Mr  Keelevin  looked 
tlie  living  image  of  amazement ;  but,  when  the 
pen  was  presented  to  Watty,  he  refused  to  take  it. 

"  What  am  I  to  get  by  this  ?  "  said  the  natural, 
mindful  of  his  mother's  advice.  "  I  would  like 
to  ken  that.  Nobody  writes  papers  without 
payment." 

"T'ou's  a  born  idiot,"  said  the  father:  'Svilt 
t'ou  no  do  as  t'ou's  bidden  ? " 

"  I'll  do  ony  other  tiling  ye  like,  but  I'll  no 
sign  that  drumhead  paper,  without  an  advantage : 


i:j(j 


THE  ENTAIL 


ye  woiildn.'i  get  Mr  Keelevin  to  do  the  like  o't 
without  j)ayiiient ;  and  what  for  should  ye  get 
me  ?  Havena  I  come  in  a'  the  gait  frae  the 
Grippy  to  do  this, — and  am  I  no  to  get  a  black 
bawbee  for  my  pains  ? ' ' 

The  laird  masked  the  vexation  with  which  this 
idiot  speech  of  his  destined  heir  troubled  his  self- 
possession,  while  Charles  sat  down  in  one  of  the 
chairs,  convulsed  with  laughter.  Claud  was  not, 
however,  to  be  deterred  from  his  purpose  by  the 
absurdity  of  his  son ;  on  the  contrary,  he  was 
afraid  to  make  the  extent  of  the  fool's  folly  too 
evident,  lest  it  might  afterwards  be  rendered 
instrumental  to  set  aside  the  entail.  He  called 
in  one  of  the  clerks  from  the  outer  chamber,  and 
requested  him  to  attest  his  signature.  Walter 
loudly  complained  of  being  so  treated,  and  said 
that  he  expected  a  guinea,  at  the  very  least,  for 
the  trouble  he  had  been  put  to, — for  so  he  inter- 
preted the  advantage  to  which  his  mother  had 
alluded. 

*^Weel,  weel,"  said  his  father,  "haud  thy 
tongue,  and  t'ou  sail  get  a  guinea ;  but  first  sign 
this  other  paper,"  presenting  to  him  the  second 
deed,  by  which,  as  possessor  of  the  Plealands 
estate,  he  entailed  it  in  the  same  manner,  and 
to  the  same  line  of  succession,  as  he  had  himself 
destined  the  Grippy.  The  assurance  of  the  guinea 
was  effectual ;  Walter  signed  the  deed,  which  was 
witnessed  by  Charles  and  the  clerk ;  and  the 
disinheritance  was  thus  made  complete. 


CHAPTER   XXIII 

v/N  leaving  the  office  of  Mr  Keelevin,  Charles 
invited  his  father  and  brother  to  go  home  with 
liim ;  but  the  old  man  abruptly  turned  away. 
Walter,  however,  appeared  inclined  to  accept 
the  invitation,  and  was  moving  off  with  Charles, 
when  their  father  looked  back,  and  chidingly 
commanded  him  to  come  along. 

At  any  other  time  this  little  incident  would 
have  been  unnoticed  by  Charles,  who,  believing 
the  old  man  had  made  some  liberal  provision  for 
him  or  for  his  wife,  was  struck  with  the  harsh 
contrast  of  such  behaviour  to  the  paternal  affec- 
tion by  which  he  thought  him  actuated  ;  and  he 
paused,  in  consequence,  thoughtfully  looking  after 
him  as  he  walked  towards  the  Cross,  followed  by 
Walter. 

Grippy  had  not  proceeded  above  twenty  or 
thirty  paces  when  he  stoj)ped,  and  turning  round, 
called  to  his  son,  who  immediately  obeyed  the 
summons. 

"  Charlie,"  said  he,  "  I  hope  t'ou'll  let  nae 
daffing  nor  ])loys  about  this  marriage  o'  thine 
tak  up  thy  attention  frae  the  shop,  for  business 

137 


138 


THE  ENTAIL 


maun  be  minded  ;  and  I'm  tliinkin/:^  t'oii  had  as 
weel  l)e  making  up  a  bit  balance-sheet,  that  1 
may  see  how  tlie  counts  stand  between  us." 

Til  is  touched  an  irksome  recollection,  and  re- 
called to  mind  the  observation  which  his  father 
had  made  on  the  occasion  of  Fatherlans'  ruin, 
with  respect  to  the  hazards  of  taking  into  partner- 
ship a  man  with  the  prospect  of  a  family. 

"I  hope,"  was  his  reply,  "that  it  is  not  vour 
intention,  sir,  to  close  accounts  with  me  .'' " 

"  No,  Charlie,  no,"  was  his  answer.  "  I'll 
maybe  mak  things  better  for  thee — t'ou'll  no  bo 
out  o'  the  need  o't.  But  atween  hands  mak  uj) 
the  balance-sheet,  and  come  doun  on  Saturday 
wi'  thy  wife  to  Grippy,  and  we'll  hae  some  dis- 
course anent  it." 

With  these  words  the  old  man  and  Walter 
again  went  on  towards  the  Cross,  leaving  Charles 
sianding  perplexed,  and  unable  to  divine  the 
source  and  motives  of  his  father's  behaviour.  It 
seemed  altogether  so  unaccountable  that  for  a 
moment  he  thought  of  going  back  to  Mr  Keelevin 
to  ask  him  concerning  the  settlements ;  but  a 
sense  of  propriety  restrained  him,  and  he  thougJit 
it  alike  indelicate  and  dishonourable  to  pry  into 
an  affair  which  was  so  evidently  concealed  from 
him.  But  this  restraint  and  these  considerations 
did  not  in  any  degree  tend  to  allay  the  anxiety 
which  the  mysteriousness  of  his  father's  conduct 
had  so  keenly  excited  ;  so  that,  when  he  returned 
home  to  Isabella,  he  appeared  absent  and  thought- 


THE  ENTAIL 


ISi) 


fill,  which  she  attributed  to  some  disappointment 
ill  liis  expectations — an  idea  the  more  natural  to 
lier,  as  she  had,  from  the  visit  on  Sunday,  been 
liaunted  with  an  apprehension  that  there  was 
something  unsound  in  the  reconcihation. 

Upon  being  questioned  as  to  tlie  cause  of  liis 
altered  spirits,  Charles  could  give  no  feasible 
reason  for  the  change.  He  described  what  had 
j)assed,  he  mentioned  what  his  father  had  said, 
and  he  communicated  the  invitation  :  in  all  which 
there  was  nothing  that  the  mind  could  lay  hold 
of,  nor  aught  to  justify  his  stra'^ge  and  indescrib- 
able apprehension  (if  that  feeling  mii';ht  be  called 
an  apprehension),  to  which  his  iinagination  could 
attach  no  danger,  nor  conjure  up  anything  to 
be  feared.  On  the  contrary,  so  far  from  having 
reason  to  suspect  that  evil  was  meditated  against 
him,  he  had  receiv  e  ^  a  posiLive  assurance  that  his 
circumstances  would  j)robably  receive  an  innne- 
diate  improvement.  But  for  all  that,  there  had 
been  in  the  reserve  of  the  old  man's  manner,  and 
in  the  vagueness  of  his  promises,  a  something 
which  sounded  hollowly  to  his  hope,  and  deprived 
him  of  confidence  in  the  anticipations  he  had 
cherished. 

While  Isabella  and  he  were  sitting  togetlier 
conversing  on  the  subject,  the  old  Leddy  Plea- 
lands  came  in,  anxious  to  hear  what  had  been 
(lone,  having  previously  been  informed  of  the 
intended  settlements,  but  not  of  their  nature  and 
objects.      In  her  character,  as  we   have  already 


140 


THE  ENTAIL 


intimated,  tlicrc  was  a  considerable  vein,  if  not 
of  romantic  sentiment,  unquestionably  of  morbid 
sensibility.  She  disliked  ber  son-in-law  from  the 
first  moment  in  which  she  saw  him ;  and  this 
dislike  had  made  her  so  averse  to  his  company 
that,  although  their  connection  was  now  nearly 
of  four-and-twenty  years'  standing,  she  had  still 
but  a  very  imperfect  notion  of  his  character.  She 
regarded  him  as  one  of  the  most  sordid  of  men, 
without  being  aware  that  avarice  with  him  was 
but  an  agent  in  the  pursuit  of  that  ancestral 
phantom  which  he  worshipped  as  the  chief, 
almost  the  only,  good  in  life ;  and,  therefore, 
could  neither  imagine  any  possible  ground  for 
supposing  that,  after  being  reconciled,  he  could 
intend  his  first-born  any  injury,  nor  sympathise 
with  the  anxieties  which  her  young  friends  freely 
confessed  both  felt,  while  she  could  not  but  de- 
plore the  unsatisfactory  state  of  their  immediate 
situation. 

In  the  meantime  Walter  and  his  father  were 
walking  homeward.  The  old  man  held  no  coi>i- 
munion  with  his  son ;  but  now  and  then  he  re- 
buked him  for  hallooing  at  birds  in  the  hedges 
or  chasing  butterflies — a  sport  so  unbecoming 
his  years. 

In  their  way  they  had  occasion  to  pass  the 
end  of  the  path  which  led  to  Kilmarkeckle, 
where  Miss  Bodle,  the  heiress,  resided  with  her 
father. 

Watty,"   said  Grippy  to   his  son,   ^'gae    thy 


ft 


THE  ENTAIL 


141 


ways  hame  by  thysel',  and  tell  thy  mither  that 
I'm  gaun  up  to  the  Kihnarkeckle  to  hae  some 
discourse  wi'  Mr  Bodle,  so  that  she  needna  weary 
if  I  dinna  come  hame  to  my  dinner." 

''  Ye  had  better  come  hame/'  said  Watty,  "  for 
there's  a  sheep's-head  in  the  pat,  wi'  a  cuff  o' 
the  neck  like  ony  Glasgow  bailie's.  Ye'll  no  get 
the  like  o't  at  Kilmarkeckle,  where  the  kail's 
sae  thin  that  every  pile  o'  barley  runs  roun' 
the  dish,  bobbing  and  bidding  gude-day  to  its 
neighbour." 

Claud  had  turned  into  the  footpath  from  the 
main  road  ;  but  there  was  something  in  this  speech 
which  did  more  than  provoke  his  displeasure,  and 
he  said  aloud,  and  with  an  accent  of  profound 
dread,  "  I  hope  the  Lord  can  forgie  me  for  what 
I  hae  done  to  this  fool ! " 

Walter  was  not  so  void  of  sense  as  to  be  in- 
capable of  comprehending  the  substance  of  this 
contrite  exclamation ;  and  instantly  recollecting 
his  mother's  admonition,  and  having  some  idea, 
imperfect  as  it  was,  of  the  peril  of  parchments 
with  seals  on  them,  he  began,  with  obstreperous 
sobs  and  wails,  to  weep  and  cry,  because,  as  he 
said,  "  My  father  and  our  Charlie  had  fastened  on 
me  the  black  bargain  o'  a  law-plea  to  wrang  me 
o'  auld  daddy's  mailing." 

Grippy  was  petrified ;  it  seemed  to  him  that 
his  son  was  that  day  smitten,  in  anger  to  him  by 
the  hand  of  Heaven,  with  a  more  disgusting  idiocy 
than  he  had  ever  before  exhibited  ;  and,  instigated 


142 


THE  ENTAIL 


by  the  aversion  of  llie  moment,  he  rushed  tow  ards 
him,  and  struck  liim  so  fiu'iously  with  liis  stick 
that  he  sent  him  yell  in  <;  Iiomeward  as  fast  as  he 
could  run.  'J'he  injustice  and  the  rashness  of  the 
action  were  felt  at  once  ;  and,  overpowered  for  a 
few  seconds  by  shame,  remorse,  and  grief,  the  old 
man  sat  down  on  a  low  dry-stone  wall  that  bounded 
the  road  on  one  side,  and  clasj)ing  his  hands 
ferventb,-  together,  confessed  with  bitter  tears 
tbuf  lie  doubted  he  had  committed  a  great  sin. 
It  '  .s,  ii.  'wever,  but  a  transitory  contrition,  for, 
hearing  soii:  one  approaching,  he  rose  abruptly, 
and  lifting  his  stick,  which  he  had  dropped  in  his 
agitation,  walked  up  the  footpath  towards  Kilmar- 
keckle.  He  had  not  advanced  many  paces  when 
a  hand  was  laid  on  his  shoulder.  He  looked 
round,  and  it  was  Walter,  with  his  hat  folded 
together  in  his  hand. 

"  Father,"  said  the  fool,  "  I  hae  catched  a 
muckle  bumbee ;  will  ye  help  to  baud  it  till  1 
take  out  the  honey  blob  .''  " 

"  I'll  go  hame,  Watty — I'll  go  hame,"  was  the 
only  answer  he  made,  in  an  accent  of  extreme 
sorrow ;  "  I'll  go  hame ;  I  daur  do  nae  mair  this 
day;"  and  he  returned  back  with  Walter  to  the 
main  road,  where,  having  again  recovered  his 
self-possession,  he  said,  "I'm  dafter  than  thee  to 
gang  on  in  this  fool  gait ;  go,  as  I  bade  thee, 
hame  and  tell  thy  mother  no  to  look  for  me  to 
dinner,  for  I'll  aiblins  bide  wi'  Kilmarkeckle." 
In  saying  which,  he  turned   briskly  round,  and. 


THE  ENTAIL 


143 


without  ever  lookinf^  behind,  walked  with  an 
alert  step,  swini^ing  his  staff  courageously,  and 
never  halted  till  he  reached  Kilmarkeckle  House, 
where  he  was  met  at  the  door  by  Mr  Bodle 
himself,  who,  seeing  him  approaching  up  the 
avenue,  came  out  to  meet  him. 


CHAPTER    XXIV 

J>ODLE  of  Kilinarkeckle,  like  all  the  l.iirds  of 
that  time,  was  come  of  an  ancient  family,  in  sonic 
decree  related  to  the  universal  stock  of  Adam, 
but  how  much  more  ancient  no  historian  has  yet 
undertaken  to  show.  Like  his  contemporaries  of 
the  same  station,  he  was,  of  course,  proud  of  his 
lineage  ;  but  he  valued  himself  more  on  his  own 
accomj)lishments  than  even  on  the  superior  purity 
of  his  blood.  We  are,  however,  in  doubt  whether 
he  ought  to  be  described  as  an  artist  or  a  })hilo- 
sopher,  for  he  had  equal  claims  to  the  honour  of 
being  both ;  and  certainly  without  question,  in 
the  art  of  delineating  hieroglyphical  resemblances 
of  birds  and  beasts  on  the  walls  of  his  parlonr 
with  snuff',  he  had  evinced,  if  not  talent  or  genius, 
at  least  considerable  industry.  In  the  course  of 
more  than  twenty  years  he  had  not  only  covered 
the  walls  with  many  a  curious  and  grotesque  form, 
but  invented — and  therein  lay  the  principle  of 
his  philosophy  —  a  particular  classification,  as 
original  and  descriptive  as  that  of  Linnaeus. 

At  an  early  age  he  had  acquired  the  habit  of 
taking  snuff",  and  in  process  of  time  became,  as 

144 


TIIK   ENTAIL 


145 


Jill  regular  snufT-takers  are,  acute  in  discriminating 
the  shades  and  inflections  of  flavour  in  tiic  kind 
to  wiiicli  lie  was  addicted.  This  was  at  once  the 
cause  and  the  j)rincij)le  of  his  science,  for  the 
nature  of  each  of  the  birds  and  beasts  which  he 
niodrlled  resembled,  as  he  averred,  some  peculi- 
arity in  the  tobacco  of  which  the  snuff  that  they 
severally  represented  had  been  made  ;  and  really, 
to  do  him  justice,  it  was  (piite  wonderful  to  hear 
with  what  in^jfcnuity  he  could  explain  the  dis- 
criminative qualities  in  which  the  resend)lance 
of  attributes  and  character  consisted.  Hut  it 
must  be  confessed  that  he  sometimes  fell  into 
that  bad  custom,  remarkable  amon*:^  j)hilosophers, 
of  talking  a  great  deal  too  nnich  to  everybody, 
and  on  every  occasion,  of  his  favourite  study. 
Saving  this,  however,  the  laird  of  Kilmarkeckle 
was  a  harmless,  easy-tempered  man,  of  a  nature 
so  kind  and  indulgent  that  he  allowed  all  about 
him  to  grow  to  rankness.  'i'he  number  of  cats 
of  every  size  and  age  which  frisked  in  his  parlour 
or  basked  at  the  sunny  side  of  the  house  exceeded 
all  reasonable  credibility,  and  vet  it  was  a  common 
saying  among  the  neighboui*s  that  Kilmarkeckle's 
mice  kittled  ^  twice  as  often  as  his  cats. 

In  nothing  was  his  easy  and  indulgent  nature 
more  shown  than  in  his  daughter.  Miss  Betty, 
whom,  she  having,  at  an  early  age,  lost  her 
mother,  he  had  permitted  to  run  unbridled  among 

^  To  kittle.     Originally,  to  bring  forth  kittens  ;  then,  us  here, 
used  in  the  general  sense  of  "to  litter." 

VOL.  I.  K 


146 


THE  ENTAIL 


the  servants,  till  the  habits  which  slie  had  ac- 
quired in  conse((ucnce  rendered  every  subsecjuciiL 
attempt  to  reduce  her  into  the  re(|uisite  subjec- 
tion of  the  sex  totally  unavailing. 

She  had  turned  her  twentieth  year,  and  was 
not  without  beauty,  but  of  such  a  sturdy  and 
athletic  kind  as,  with  her  o})en  ruddy  countenance, 
lau^hin^  eyes,  white  well-set  teeth,  and  free  and 
joyous  step  and  air,  justly  entitled  her  to  the 
nickname  of  ''  Fun,"  bestowed  by  Charles  Walkin- 
shaw.  She  was  fond  of  do«Ts  and  horses,  and  was 
a  better  shot  than  the  Duke  of  Douglas's  game- 
keeper. Bold,  boisterous,  and  frank,  she  made 
no  scruple  of  employing  her  whip  when  rudely 
treated  either  by  master  or  man ;  for  she  fre- 
quently laid  herself  open  to  freedoms  from  both, 
and  she  neither  felt  nor  pretended  to  any  of  her 
sex's  gentleness  nor  delicacy.  Still,  she  was  not 
without  a  conciliatory  portion  of  feminine  virtues, 
and  perhaps,  had  she  been  fated  to  become  the 
wife  of  a  sportsman  or  a  soldier,  she  might  pos- 
sibly have  appeared  on  the  turf  or  in  the  tent  to 
considerable  advantage. 

Such  a  woman,  it  may  be  supposed,  could  not 
but  look  with  the  most  thorough  contempt  on 
Walter  Walkinshaw  ;  and  yet,  from  the  accidental 
circumstance  of  being  often  his  playmate  in  child- 
hood, and  making  him,  in  the  frolic  of  their 
juvenile  amusements,  her  butt  and  toy,  she  had 
contracted  something  like  an  habitual  afFectiou 
ibr  the  creature,  insomuch  that,  when  her  father, 


after  CI 
i)and,  si 
On  the 
with  th( 
wliiinsic 
(lings  a.' 
Kveryth 
and  hap 
and  Or 
sanguint 
hixw  the 
with  a  c 
the  resu 
his  min( 
and  evei 
to  make 

"  Com  I 
him  at  th 
your  neM 
at  hame, 

^'Trot] 
thing  th 
year,  at 
Donald 
Cross  of 
the  '  lint 

• 

pleasant 
sniffling 
knowe  ir 
whin-bus 

^  Beltane 


THE  ENTAIL 


u: 


liad  ac- 
;)sc(|iient 
;  subjec- 

and  was 
irdy  and 
itenaiice, 

free  and 
r  to  the 
s  Walkin- 

and  was 
s's  game- 
he  made 
;n  rudely 

she  fre- 
rom  both, 
ny  of  her 
2  was  not 
e  virtues, 

ome  the 
|ight  pos- 

e  tent  to 

}ould  not 

tempt  on 

Accidental 

in  child- 

of  their 

she  had 

affecti(»u 

jr  father, 


after  Claud's  visit,  proposed  Walte.  for  her  hus- 
hand,  she  made  no  serious  objection  to  tiie  match. 
On  tile  contrary,  slie  laughed,  and  amused  iierself 
with  the  idea  of  making  him  fetch  and  carry  as 
whimsically  as  of  old,  and  do  her  bests  and  bid- 
(Ungs  as  implicitly  as  when  they  were  children. 
liVerything  thus  seemed  auspicious  to  a  speeily 
and  happy  union  of  the  properties  of  Kilmarkeckle 
and  Grij)py — indeed,  so  far  beyond  the  most 
sanguine  expectations  of  Claud  that,  when  he 
t;aw  the  philosoj)hical  laird  coming  next  morning, 
with  a  canister  of  snuff  in  his  hand,  to  tell  him 
the  result  of  the  comnuniication  to  Miss  Ik'tty, 
his  mind  was  prepared  to  hear  a  most  decided, 
and  even  a  menacing,  refusal  for  having  ventured 
to  make  the  proposal. 

"Come  away,  Kilmarkeckle,"  said  he,  meeting 
him  at  the  door  ;  "  come  in  by.  What's  the  best  o' 
your  news  this  morning  ?  I  hope  nothing's  wrang 
at  hame,  to  gar  you  look  sae  as  ye  were  fash't  ! " 

"  Troth,"  replied  Kilmarkeckle,  "  I  liae  got  a 
thing  this  morning  that's  very  vexatious.  Last 
year,  at  Beltane,^  ye  should  ken,  I  coft-  frae 
Donald  M'Sneeshen,  the  tobacconist  aboon  the 
Cross  of  Glasgow,  a  canister  of  a  kind  that  I  ca'd 
the  Minty.'  It  was  sae  brisk  in  the  smeddum,  sae 
pleasant  to  the  smell,  garring  ye  trow  in  the 
sniffling  ti  at  ye  were  sitting  on  a  b(mny  green 
knowe  in  hay-time,  by  the  side  of  a  blooming 
whin-bush,  hearkening  to   the  blithe  wee  birdies 

^  Beltane.     The  May-day  Fair.  ^  Cqft.     Bought. 


148 


THE  ENTAIL 


sinfyin^  san^s,  as  it  were,  to  pleasure  the  summer's 
sun ;  and  what  would  ye  think,  Mr  Walkinshaw  r* 
here  is  another  eanister  of  a  sort  that  I'll  defy 
ony  ordinary  nose  to  tell  the  difference,  and  yet, 
for  the  life  o'  me,  I  eanna  gie't  in  conscience 
anither  name  than  the  ^  hijipopotamus.'  " 

"  But  liae  ye  spoken  to  your  dochter  ?  "  said 
Grippy,  interrupting  him,  and  apprehensive  of  a 
dissertation. 

'^Ou  ay  ;  atweel  I  hae  done  that." 

"  And  what  did  Miss  Betty  say  ?  " 

"Na,  an'  ye  liad  but  seen  and  heard  her,  ye 
would  just  liae  dee't,  Mr  Walkinshaw.  I'm  sure 
I  wonder  wha  the  lassie  taks  her  light-hearted 
merriment  frae,  for  her  mother  was  a  sober  and 
sedate,  sensible  woman.  I  never  heard  her  jocose 
but  anee  in  a'  the  time  we  were  thegither,  and 
that  was  when  I  expounded  to  her  how  maccaha 
is  like  a  nightingale,  the  whilk,  as  I  hae  seen  and 
read  in  print,  is  a  fcather't  fowl  that  has  a  great 
notion  o'  roses." 

"  I  was  fear't  for  that,"  rejoined  Claud,  suspect- 
ing that  Miss  Betty  had  ridiculed  the  })ropos;d. 

"  But  to  gae  back  to  tlie  linty  and  the  hi})po- 
potanuis,"  resumed  Kilmarkeckle.  ^'^The  snuti" 
that  I  hae  here  in  this  canister — tak  a  pree  o't, 
Mr  Walkinshaw ~  was  sent  n.e  in  a  present  frae 
Mr  Glassford,  made  out  of  the  j)rimest  hogget  in 
his  last  cargo.  What  think  ye  o't  }  Noo,  I  would 
just  speer  gin  ye  could  tell  wherein  it  \\\i\\  Yx 
likened  to  a  hipp()|)otanuis,  tiie  which  is  a  creature 


living  ii 

teeth,  h 

the  bla( 

Claiul 

rejected 

subject, 

saying  t 

snuff  coi 

'^  Tha 

chucklin 

the  most 

as  like  a 

sac  like 

})lainer  ; 

I  thi.ik  1 

iug  in  sc 

its  muck 

i)lack  he 

water,  w 

round  it.« 

giving  an 

''  But  ] 

Mr  Bodle 

'^That' 

surely  th( 

tliat  briu! 

as  yet  I'll 

in  a   hipf 

tiiink  o' 

past  a'  dii 

^  Louti, 


thp:  entail 


lif) 


iummer  s 
ciiish.'iw  ? 
I'll  defy 
and  yet, 
jnscieiice 

r  ?  "  said 
sive  of  a 


i  her,  ve 
I'm  sure 
it-hearted 
>ober  and 
lier  joeose 
ther,  and 
'  maccal);i 
seen  and 
IS  a  great 


() 


suspect- 

jK)s;d. 

K"  hi})]H>- 

lie   snutr 

pree  o't, 

sent  IVac 

lon-n-et  in 

),  I  would 

t  niav  It' 
i  creature 


living  in  the  rivers  of  Afrikaw,  and  has  twa  ivory 
teeth,  hi<i^_ijer,  as  I  am  creditably  informed,  than 
lilt  blade  o*  a  scythe." 

Claud,  believing  that  his  proposnl  had  been 
rejected,  and  not  desirous  of  reverting  to  the 
subject,  encouraged  the  philosopher  to  talk,  by 
saying  that  he  could  not  possibly  imagine  how 
siuitf  could  be  said  to  resemble  any  such  creature. 

"That's  a'  that  ye  ken!"  said  Kilmarkeekle, 
chuckling  with  j)leasure  and  inhaling  a  pinch  with 
the  most  cordial  satisfaction.  ''This  snuff  is  just 
as  like  a  hippopotamus  as  the  other  sort  that  v.;is 
sae  like  it  was  like  a  linty.  And  nothing  could  be 
plainer  ;  for  even  now,  when  I  hae't  in  my  nostril, 
I  thi'ik  1  see  the  creature  wallowing  and  wanton- 
ing in  some  wide  river  in  a  lown  '  sunny  day,  wi' 
its  muekle  glad  een  wamling-  wi'  delight  in  its 
black  head,  as  it  lies  lapping  in  the  clear  caller 
water,  wi'  its  red  tongue  twirling  and  twining 
nuuid  its  ivory  teeth,  and  every  now  and  then 
giving  another  lick." 

''  But  I  dinna  see  any  likeness  in  that  to  snuff, 
Mr  Bodle,"  said  Claud. 

"That's  most  extraordinary,  Mr  Walkinshaw,  for 
surely  there  is  a  likeness  somewhere  in  everything 
tliat  brinns  another  thing  to  mind  ;  and  althouuh 
as  yet  I'll  no  point  out  to  you  the  vera  particularity 
ill  a  hipj)()potannis  by  which  this  snuff  gars  me 
think  o'  the  beast,  ye  nnist,  nevertheless,  allow 
past  a'  dispute  that  then.'  is  a  particularity." 

^  Loicn.     i'oaccful.  -   Wainliny.     Rolling. 


i  .■")() 


THE  ENTAIL 


Claud  replied,  with  ironical  gravity,  that  he 
thought  the  snuff  much  more  like  a  meadow,  for 
it  had  the  smell  and  flavour  of  new  hay. 

"  Ye're  no  far  frae  the  mark,  Grippy  ;  and  now 
I'll  tell  you  wherein  the  likeness  lies.  The  hay,  yc 
ken,  is  cut  down  by  scythes  in  meadows  ;  meadows 
lie  by  water-sides  ;  the  teeth  of  the  hippopotamus 
is  as  big  as  scythes ;  and  he  slumbers  and  sleeps 
in  the  rivers  of  Afrikaw  ;  so  the  snuff,  smelling 
like  hay,  brings  a'  thae  things  to  mind  ;  and  there- 
fore it  is  like  a  hippopotamus.'* 

After  enjoying  a  hearty  laugh  at  this  triumph 
of  his  reasoning,  the  philosopher  alighted  from  his 
hobby,  and  proceeded  to  tell  Claud  that  he  had 
spoken  to  his  daughter,  and  that  she  had  made 
no  objection  to  the  match. 

"  Heavens  preserve  us,  Mr  Bodle  !  "  exclaimed 
Grippy ;  "  what  were  ye  havering  sae  about  a 
brute  beast,  and  had  sic  blithesome  news  to 
tell  me  ?  " 

They  then  conversed  somewhat  circumstantially 
regarding  the  requisite  settlements,  Kilmarkecklc 
agreeing  entirely  with  everything  that  the  sordid 
and  cunning  bargainer  proposed,  until  the  whole 
business  was  arranged,  except  the  small  particular 
of  ascertaining  how  the  appointed  bridegroom 
stood  affected.  This,  however,  his  father  under- 
took to  manage,  and  also  that  Walter  should  g(^ 
in  the  evening  to  Kilmarkecklc,  and  in  person 
make  a  tender  of  his  heart  and  hand  to  the 
blooming,  boisterous,  and  bouncing  Miss  Betty. 


CHAPTEIl  XXV 

\V  ATTY,"  said  the  laird  o'  Cirippy  to  his  hopeful 
licir,  caUing  him  into  the  room  after  Kihnarkeckle 
liad  retired,  "  Watty,  come  beu  and  sit  down  ;  I 
want  to  hae  some  solid  converse  wi'  thee.  Dist 
t'ou  hearken  to  what  I'm  saying?  Kihnarkeckle 
lias  just  been  wi'  me — hear'st  t'ou  me?  Deevil 
an'  I  saw  the  like  o'  thee — what's  t'ou  lookinj^  at  ? 
As  I  was  sayin<ij,  Kihnarkeckle  has  been  here,  and 
he  was  thinking  that  you  and  his  doehter " 

"Weel,"  interruj)ted  Watty,  "if  ever  I  saw 
the  like  a'  that.  There  was  a  .Jenny  Langlegs 
bumming  at  the  corner  o'  the  wintlow,  when 
down  came  a  spider  wabster  ^  as  big  as  a  puddock, 
and  claught  it  in  his  arms  ;  and  he's  oil'  and  awa 
wi'  her  Lntil  Lis  nest; — I  ne'er  saw  the  like  o't." 

"It's  most  extraordinar,  Watty  Walkinshaw," 
exclaimed  his  father  peevishly,  "  that  I  eamia  get 
a  mouthful  o'  common-sense  out  o'  thee,  although 
I  was  just  telling  thee  o'  the  greatest  advantage 
that  t'ou's  ever  likelv  to  meet  wi'  in  this  world. 
How  would  ye  like  Miss  Betty  Bodle  for  a 
wife  ?  " 

^  Wabstcr.     Weaver, 
151 


152 


THE  ENTAIL 


Oh,  father! 


t( 


I'm  saying,  wouldna  she  make  a  cupllal  letidy 
o'  tlie  Plcalaruls  ?  " 

Walter  made  no  reply,  but  Inuj^hed,  and  chiick- 
lingly  rubbed  his  hands,  and  t!un  delightedly 
patted  the  sides  of  his  thighs  Avith  them. 

"I'm  sure  ye  canna  fin'  ony  fau't  wi'  her; 
there's  no  a  brawer  nor  a  better-toehered  lass 
in  the  three  shires.     What  thinkest  t'ou  ?  " 

Walter  sudderdy  suspended  his  ecstasy ;  and 
grasping  his  knees  firndy,  he  bent  forward,  and 
looking  his  father  seriously  in  the  face,  said — 

"But  will  she  no  thump  me.''  Ye  mind  how 
she  made  my  back  baith  black  and  blue.  I'm 
frightit." 

"  Haud  thy  tongue  wi'  sic  nonseii^c  ;  that 
liappened  when  ye  were  but  bairns.  I'm  sure 
there's  no  a  blither,  bonnier  queaii  in  a'  the 
kintra-side." 

"  I'll  no  deny  that  she  has  red  cheeks,  and 
e'en  like  blobs  o'  honey-dew  in  a  kail-Made  ;  but 
father — Lord,  fathei  !  she  has  a  nieve  like  a 
beer-mell." 

"  But,  for  a'  that,  a  sightly  lad  like  you  might 
put  up  wi'  her,  Watty.  I'm  sure  ye'U  gang  fav. 
baith  e.lst  and  west,  before  ye'll  meet  wi'  her 
marrow,^  and  ye  should  refleck  on  her  tocher, 
the  whilk  is  a  wull-ease  that's  no  to  be  found  at 
ilka  dyke-side." 

Ay,  so  they  say ;  her  uncle  'frauded  his  aiii 

^  Marrow.     Equal. 


i( 


iHi'y  aoci 
for  a  legn 

"Ye  n 
her  weel, 
you  the 
seen  ony 

"Av,  L 
fuiently. 

'^  Wha 
and  terrifi 

i"  My  m 
The  ol( 
thus  earn 
laugh  at 
but  he  ad{ 

"True! 
But  an  t'l 
t'ou  woulc 
mother." 

''  The  fil 
and  thy  n 
tile  land  ; ' 
a  wife  in  a 

'^  Weel, 
and  Kilma: 
marry  his  c 
the  night  i 

"But  I 
(lid  sic  a  I 
to  try't." 


THE  ii^NTAIL 


153 


[ii  lecidy 

I  chuck- 

ijL^htcdly 

n. 

vi*    her ; 

red    lass 

sy  ;  and 
ird,  and 
id— 
ind  how- 
Lie.      I'm 

,(- ;  that 
li'm  sure 
L   a'    the 

n,    and 

ide  ;  but 

like    a 


u  miij;ht 
ang  far. 
\vi'   her 
toeher, 
c)uiid  at 


his  aiii 


ilv  dochter,  and  left  her  a  stockincr  fu'  o'  w^'ieas 


f^ 


for  a  legacy.      But  will  sine  let  me  go  halver?  " 

"Ye  needna  misd(^ul)t  that;  na,  an  ye,  fleech^ 
her  weel,  I  wouldna  be  sur])rised  if  she  would  gie 
vou  the  whole  tot;  and  I'm  sure  ye  ne'er  hae 
seen  ony  woman  that  ye  can  like  better." 

*^Ay,  but  I  hae  though/'  replied  Watty  ron- 
fulently. 

"  Wha  is't  ? "  exclaimed  his  father,  surprised 
and  terrified. 

'^  My  mother." 

The  old  man,  sordid  as  he  was  and  driving 
thus  earnestly  his  greedy  purpose,  was  forced  to 
laugh  at  the  solenn^  simplicity  of  this  answer; 
but  he  added,  resuming  his  ])erseverance, — 

"True!  I  didna  think  o'  thy  mother,  Watty. 
But  an  t'ou  was  ance  marriet  to  Betty  Bodle, 
t'ou  would  soon  like  her  far  better  than  thy 
mother." 

"  The  fifth  command  says,  '  Honour  thy  father 
and  thy  mother,  that  thy  days  may  be  long  in 
the  land  ; '  and  there's  no  ae  word  about  liking 
a  wife  in  a'  the  rest." 

"  Weel,  weel,  but  what  I  hae  to  say  is  that  me 
aud  Kilmarkeekle  hae  made  a  paction  for  thee  to 
inarry  his  dochter,  and  t'ou  maun  just  gang  ouer 
the  night  and  court  Miss  Betty." 

"But  I  dinna  ken  the  way  o't,  father;  I  ne'er 
did  sic  a  thing  a'  my  days ;  odd,  I'm  unco  blate 
to  try't." 

^  Flcech.     Coax. 


1.54 


THE  ENTAIL 


"Gudo  for^ie  me!"  said  Claud  to  himself, 
"but  tlie  creature  grows  sillier  and  sillier  every 
day.  I  tell  thee,  Watty  W'alkiiishaw,  to  pluck 
up  the  spirit  o'  manhood,  and  gang  ouer  this 
night  to  Kilmarkeckle  and  speak  to  Miss  Betty 
by  yoursel'  about  the  M-edding." 

"Atweel,  I  can  do  that,  and  help  her  to  buy 
her  parapharnauls.  We  will  hae  a  prime  apple- 
pie  that  night,  wi'  raisins  in't." 

The  old  man  was  j)etrified.  It  seemed  to  him 
that  it  was  utterly  impossible  the  marriage  could 
ever  take  place,  and  he  snt  for  some  time  stricken, 
as  it  were,  with  a  palsy  of  the  mind.  But  these 
intervals  of  feeling  and  emotion  were  not  of  long 
duration  ;  his  inHexible  character,  and  the  ardour 
with  which  his  whole  spirit  was  devoted  to  the 
attainment  of  one  object,  soon  settled  and  silenced 
all  doubt,  contrition,  and  hesitation  ;  and  consider- 
ing, so  far  as  Wal  r  was  concerned,  the  business 
decided,  he  summoned  his  wife  to  communicate 
to  \u  (  tjje  news. 

''Girzv  Ilypel,"  said  he  as  she  entered  the 
room,  holding  by  the  neck  a  chicken,  which  she 
was  assisting  the  maids  in  the  kitchen  to  pluck 
for  dinner,  and  the  feathers  of  which  were  stick- 
ing thickly  on  the  blue  worsted  apron  which  she 
had  put  on  to  })rotect  her  old  red  quilted  silk 
p«;^tticoat- — ^'*^(jirzy  Hypel,  be  nane  sur])rised  to 
heUi'  of  a  purpose  of  marriage  soon  between 
Watly  and  Betty  Bodle." 

'  No  possible ! "   exclaimed    the   leddy,   sittinij 


down  wi 
flinging, 
her  lap, 
habitual 

<'  Wha 
angrily  t 
was  goin 

-  Na, 
— let  no 
it's  a  thi 
aye  jealo 
for  she's 
weel-disj 
thy  ain  J 
the  Plea: 
add,  "si< 
Bodle ; " 
the  most 
and  he  ii 

"  Ever; 
and  a'  tl 
you,  Gir? 
wiselike, 
order  to 

"  I'm  f 
to  green 
o'  any  p 
part  and 
"owls.- 

1  Green , 
Ooivfs. 


THE  ENTAIL 


155 


D  himself, 
llicr  every 
,  to  pluck 
ouer  this 
^liss   Betty 

»er  to  huy 
me  applc- 

led  to  him 
iage  could 
e  stricken, 
But  these 
lot  of  lonjr 
the  ardour 
ed  to  the 
id  silenced 
1  consider- 
e  business 
nmunicate 

tered   the 

which  she 

to  pluck 

^ere  stick- 

which  she 

ilted   silk 

■j)rised  to 

between 


down  with  vehen.ence  in  lier  astonishment,  and 
flinfrin^,  at  the  same  time,  the  chicken  across 
her  lap,  with  a  certain  degree  of  instinctive  or 
Imhitual  dexterity. 

"What  for  is't  no  possible?"  said  the  laird 
angrily  through  his  teeth,  ajiprehensive  that  she 
was  going  to  raise  some  foolish  objection. 

"Na,  gudeman,  an'  that's  to  be  a  come-to-pass 
— let  nobody  talk  o'  miracles  to  me.  For  although 
it's  a  thing  just  to  the  nines  o'  my  wishes,  I  hae 
aye  jealoused  that  Betty  Bodle  wouldna  tak  him, 
for  she's  o'  a  rampant  nature,  and  he's  a  sober, 
weel-disposed  lad.  My  word,  Watty,  t'ou  has 
thy  ain  luck  :  first  thy  grandfather's  j)roperty  o' 

the  Plealands,  and  syne "     She  was  going  to 

add,  "  sic  a  bonny,  ])raw-tochered  lass  as  Betty 
Bodle  ; "  but  her  observaticm  struck  jarringly  on 
the  most  discordant  string  in  her  husband's  bosom, 
and  he  interrupted  her  sharply,  saying — 

"  Everything  that's  ordained  will  come  to  pass  ; 
and  a'  that  I  hae  for  the  present  to  observe  to 
you,  Girzy,  is  to  tak  tent  that  the  lad  gangs  over 
wiselike,  at  the  gloaming,  to  Kilmarkeckle,  in 
order  to  see  Miss  Betty  aiient  the  weddintr." 

"  I'm  sure,"  retorted  the  leddy,  "  I  hae  no  need 
to  irrcen  for^  weddings  in  mv  familv  ;  for,  instead 
o'  any  pleasance  to  me,  the  deil-be-licket's  my 
part  and  portion  o'  the  pastime  but  girns  and 
gowls.'-     Gudeman,  ye  should  learn  to  keep  your 


y,   sittin^f 


^  (Inrnfor.     Long  for. 
Gowh.     Tho  hovvlirii;-  noises  made  hv  the  wind  in  hollows. 


136 


THE  ENTAIL 


temper,  and  be  of  a  composed  spirit,  and  talk 
wi'  me  in  a  sedate  manner,  wlien  our  bairns  are 
chan^in^  their  life.  Watty,  my  lad,  mind  what 
your  mother  says — ■'  Marriage  is  a  creel,  where  ye 
maun  catch,  as  the  auld  byword  runs,  'an  adder 
or  an  eel.'  But,  as  I  was  rehearsing,  I  couldu.i 
hae  thought  that  Betty  Bodle  would  hae  fa'en 
just  at  once  into  your  grip;  for  I  had  a  notion 
that  she  was  ouer  soople  in  the  tail  to  be  easily 
catched.  But  it's  the  Lord's  will,  Watty  ;  and 
I  ho{)e  ye'll  enjoy  a'  manner  o'  happiness  wi' 
her,  and  be  a  comfort  to  ane  anither,  like  your 
father  and  me — bringing  up  your  bairns  in  the 
fear  o'  God,  as  we  hae  done  you,  setting  them, 
in  your  walk  and  conversation,  a  pattern  of 
sobriety  and  honesty,  till  they  come  to  years  of 
discretion,  when,  if  it's  ordained  for  them,  nae 
doubt  they'll  look,  as  ye  hae  done,  for  a  settle- 
ment in  the  world,  and  ye  maun  part  wi'  them, 
as  we  are  obligated  by  course  of  nature  to  part 
with  you." 

At  the  conclusion  of  this  pathetic  address  the 
old  lady  lifted  her  apron  to  wijjc  the  gathered 
drops  from  her  eyes,  when  W^atty  exclaimed — 

"  Eh,  mother  !  ane  o'  the  hen's  feathers  is  ])lay- 
ing  at  whirley  wi'  the  breath  o'  your  nostril ! " 

Thus  ended  the  annunciation  of  the  conjugal 
felicity  of  which  Grippy  was  the  architect. 

After  dinner  Walter,  dressed  and  set  off  to  the 
best  advantage  l)y  the  assistance  of  his  mother, 
walked,   accompanied   by  his    father,   to    Kilmar- 


keckle  ; 
not  state 
(leficiene 
saving  ])( 
his  count 
favour  in 
carry  bin 
broken  ii 
air  and  g 
there  wa 
upon  the 
ing    after 
bargain  t 


THE  ENTAIL 


157 


,  and  talk 

bairns  are 

mnd  what 

,  where  ve 

» 

'an  adder 
I  C()ul(hia 
hae   fa'cn 
I  a  notion 
be  easily 
fitty  ;    and 
piness  wi' 
like  your 
ns  in  the 
inn^  them, 
attern    of 
)  years  of 
hem,  nae 
a  settle- 
w'l    them, 
e  to  part 


keckle;  and  we  should  do  him  injustice  if  we  did 
not  state  that,  whatever  mi^rlit  be  his  intellectual 
deficiencies,  undoubtedly  in  jxrsonal  appearance, 
saviniL^  perhaps  some  little  lack  of  mental  li^lit  in 
Ills  countenance,  he  was  cast  in  a  mould  to  find 
favour  in  any  lady's  eye.  Perhaps  he  did  not 
carry  himself  quite  as  firmly  as  if  he  had  been 
broken  in  by  a  serireant  of  dragoons,  and  in  his 
air  and  ^ait  we  shall  not  undertake  to  affirm  that 
there  was  nothin«r  lax  nor  slovenly ;  but  still, 
uj)on  the  whole,  he  was,  as  his  mother  said,  look- 
in*,^  after  him  as  he  left  the  house,  "a  braw 
bargain  of  manhood,  get  him  wha  would." 


dress  the 

gathered 

ned — 

s  is  play- 

:ril!" 

conjugal 

t. 

:)fFto  the 
mother, 
Kilmar- 


CHAPTER   XXVI 

_/V-FTER  KilmarkcckU'  Imil  welcomed  Grij)py  and 
Walter,  he  l)e<jfan  to  talk  of  the  hippopotamus, 
by  showin<r  them  the  outlines  of  a  figure  wiiic  h 
lie  intended  to  fill  nj)  with  the  snntfon  the  wall. 
Cland,  however,  ent  him  short  by  pro})osin^,  in  a 
whis])er,  that  Miss  Betty  shonld  be  called  in,  and 
that  she  and  Walter  slionld  be  left  toj^etlur, 
while  they  took  a  walk  to  discnss  the  merits  of 
the  hippoj)otamns.  This  was  done  quickly,  and 
accord in<jily  the  youn<T  Luly  made  lier  appearance, 
entering  the  room  with  a  blushing  giggle,  j)erusin^' 
her  Titan  of  a  suitor  from  head  to  heel  with  the 
beam  of  her  eye. 

''We'll  leave  you  to  yoursel's,"  said  her  father 
jocularly  ;  "  and,  \\  atty,  be  brisk  wi'  her,  lad  ;  she 
can  thole  a  touzle,^  I'se  warrant." 

This  exhortation  had,  however,  no  immediate 
etfect ;  for  Walter,  from  the  moment  she  mad*' 
her  ap])earanee,  looked  awkward  and  shamefaced, 
swinging  his  hat  between  his  legs,  with  his  eyes 
fixed   on   the   brazen    head   of  the   tt)ngs,   whiti) 


^  Thole  a  totizlc.     Tholr  is  to  endure.     Tuuzle  is  used  hero 
in  the  sense  of  *'  rough  dulliunoo." 


Voi 


THE   ENTAIL 


i:)9 


wore  |)lact'(J  upright  astraddle  in  front  of  tlie 
jiiatc  ;  but  every  now  and  then  Ik-  peejjed  at  her 
tVoni  the  corner  of  his  e\e  with  a  (jucer  and 
luscious  glanee,  whicli,  wliile  it  amused^  deterred 
her  for  some  time  from  addressing  iiim.  Dilli- 
(Unee,  liowever,  Iiad  nothing  to  (h)  with  tlie 
character  of  Miss  lietty  Bodle,  and  a  feeling 
r)f  conscious  superiority  soon  overcame  the  slight 
t  inbarrassment  which  arose  from  the  novelty  of 
her  situation. 

Observing  the  perplexity  of  her  lover,  she 
suddenly  started  from  her  seat,  and  advancing 
l)riskly  towards  him,  touched  him  on  the  shoul- 
der, saying — 

"Watty — I    say,    Watty,   what's    your   will   wi' 


me 


**  Nothing,"  w;>s  the  reply,  w  hile  he  looked  up 
knowingly  in  her  face. 

"  What  are  ye  fear't  for  ?  I  ken  what  ye're 
come  about,"  said  she  ;  "my  father  has  telt  me." 

At  these  encouraging  words,  he  leaped  from 
his  chair  with  an  alacrity  unusual  to  his  ehar- 
jicter,  and  attempted  to  take  her  in  liis  arms  ;  but 
she  nimbly  escaj)ed  from  his  elasji,  giving  him,  at 
tlie  same  time,  a  smart  slap  on  the  cheek, 

"  That's  no  fair,  Betty  Hodle,"  cried  the  lover, 
rubbing  his  elieek,  and  looking  somewliat  offended 
and  afraid. 

''Tlien  what  gart  you  meddle  wi'  me?"  re- 
plied the  bouncing  girl,  with  a  laughing  bravery 
that  soon  reinvigorated  his  love. 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


V 


/ 


O 


<     % 


Q.- 


/. 


i/.A 


1.0 


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THE  ENTAIL 


"  I'm  sure  I  wasna  ^aiin  to  do  you  ony  harm," 
was  the  reply — "no,  as  sure's  death,  Betty,  i 
would  rather  cut  my  finger  than  do  you  ony 
scaith,  for  I  like  you  so  weel — I  canna  tell  you 
how  weel.  But,  if  ye'll  tak  me,  I'll  mak  you  the 
leddy  o'  the  Plealands  in  a  jiffy,  and  my  mother 
says  that  my  father  will  gie  me  a  hundred  pound 
to  buy  you  parapharnauls  and  new  plenishing." 

The  young  lady  was  probably  conciliated  by 
the  manner  in  which  this  was  said  ;  for  she  ap- 
proached towards  him,  and,  while  she  still  affected 
to  laugh,  it  was  manifest  even  to  Walter  himself 
that  she  was  not  displeased  by  the  alacrity  with 
which  he  had  come  to  the  point.  Emboldened 
by  her  freedom,  he  took  her  by  the  hand,  look- 
ing, however,  away  nom  her,  as  if  he  was  not 
aware  of  what  he  had  done ;  and  in  this  situation 
they  stood  for  the  space  of  two  or  three  minutes 
without  speaking.  Miss  Betty  was  the  first  to 
break  silence. 

"Weel,  Watty,"  said  she,  "what  are  ye  goin<j; 
to  say  to  me  }  " 

"  Na,"  replied  he,  becoming  almost  gallant, 
"it's  your  turn  to  speak  noo.  I  hae  spoken  my 
mind,  Betty  Bodle.  Eh  !  this  is  a  bonny  hand ; 
and  what  a  sonsy  arm  ye  hae  !  I  could  amaist 
bite  your  cheek,  Betty  Bodle — I  could." 

"  Gude  preserve  me,  W^atty  !  ye're  like  a  wud 
dog." 

"An'  I  were  sae,  I  would  worry  you,"  was  his 
animated   answer,    while    he   turned   round    and 


devou 
instan 
liim  f 
father 
off  ha 
repres 

But 
maidei 
ardent 

"Ii 
and  w 
Bodle, 

"Oc 
pleascc 
hurt  in 
and  wh 
Howse 
a'  that 
ye'll  n( 
weel, — 
I  wiU- 
I'll  buy 
wi  lar 
Mrs  Ba 
the  Pie 
to  dark 
the  twa 
you.  Be 
wise  a 


vol..  I 


THE  ENTAIL 


161 


•e  ye  goin<,^ 


devoured  her  witli  kisses ;  a  liberty  whieh  she 
instantaneously  resented  by  vigorously  pushing 
him  from  her  and  driving  him  down  into  her 
father's  easy-chair — his  arm  in  the  fall  rubbing 
off  half  a  score  of  the  old  gentleman's  snuffy 
representatives. 

But,  notwithstanding  this  masculine  effort  of 
maiden  modesty,  Miss  Betty  really  rejoiced  in  the 
ardent  intrepidity  of  her  lover,  and  said  merrily — 

''  I  redde  you,  Watty,  keep  your  distance.  Man 
and  wife's  man  and  wife ;  but  I'm  only  Betty 
Bodle,  and  ye' re  but  Watty  Walkinshaw." 

"Od,  Betty,"  re})lied  Watty,  not  more  than  half 
j)leased,  as  he  rubbed  his  right  elbow,  which  was 
hurt  in  the  fall,  "  ye're  desperate  strong,  woman  ; 
and  Mhat  were  ye  the  waur  o'  a  bit  slaik  o'  a  kiss  ^  } 
Howsever,  my  bonnie  dawty,  we'll  no  cast  out  for 
a'  that;  for  if  ye'll  just  marry  me, — and  I'm  sure 
ye' 11  no  get  anybody  that  can  like  you  half  so 
weel, — I'll  do  anything  ye  bid  me  :  as  sure's  death 
I  will — there's  my  hand,  Betty  Bodle,  I  will  ;  and 
I'll  buy  you  the  bravest  satin  gown  in  a'  Glasgow, 
wi'  far  bigger  flowers  on't  tlian  on  any  ane  in  a' 
Mrs  Bailie  Nicol  Jarvie's  aught ;  -  and  we'll  live  in 
the  Plealands  House,  and  do  nothing  frae  dawn 
to  dark  but  shoo  ane  another  on  a  swing  between 
the  tvva  trees  on  the  green  ;  and  I'll  be  as  kind  to 
you,  Betty  Bodle,  as  I  can  be,  and  buy  you  like- 
wise a  side-saddle,  and  a  pony  to  ride  on ;   and 


^  Slaik  conveys  the  sense  of  slabbering. 
-  Aujht,     Pussession. 


vol..  I. 


I. 


162 


THE  ENTAIL 


■^'ft 


•\vlien  the  winter  comes,  sowing  the  hand  wi'  hail- 
stones to  grow  frost  and  snaw,  w'e'll  sit  cosily  at 
the  chimley-lug,  and  I'll  read  you  a  chapter  o' 
the  Bible,  or  aiblins  Patie  and  Rodger — as  sure's 
death  I  will,  Betty  Bodle." 

It  would  seem,  indeed,  that  there  is  something 
exalting  and  inspiring  in  the  tender  passion  ;  for 
the  earnest  and  emphatic  manner  in  which  this 
was  said  gave  a  degree  of  energy  to  the  counte- 
nance of  Watty  that  made  him  appear  in  the  eyes 
of  his  sweetheart,  to  whom  moral  vigour  was  not 
an  object  of  primary  admiration,  really  a  clever 
and  effectual  fellow\ 

"  I'll  be  free  wi'  you,  Watty,"  was  her  answer  ; 

"\  dinna  objeck  to  tak  you,   but "  and  she 

hesitated. 

"  But  what  ? "  said  Watty,  still  exalted  above 
his  wont. 

Ye  maunna  hurry  the  wedding  ouer  soon." 
Yell  get  your  ain  time,  Betty  Bodle  ;  I'll  pro- 
mise you  that,"  was  his  soft  answer;  "but  when 
a  bargain's  struck,  the  sooner  payment's  made  the 
better ;  for  as  the  copy-line  at  the  school  says, 
'Delays  are  dangerous.*  So,  if  ye  like,  Betty,  we 
can  be  bookit  on  Saturday,  and  cried  for  the  first 
time  on  Sabbath,  and  svne  i  second  time  next 
Lord's  day,  and  the  third  time  on  the  Sunday 
after,  and  marriet  on  the  Tuesday  following." 

"I  dinna  tliink,  W^atty,"  said  she,  laying  her 
hand  on  his  shoulder,  "  that  we  need  sic  a  fasherie 
o'  crying." 


t( 


cc 


THE  ENTAIL 


\63 


"  Then,  if  ye  dinna  like  it,  Betty  Bodle,  I'm 
sure  neither  do  I  ;  so  we  can  be  cried  a'  out  on 
ae  day,  and  married  on  Monday,  like  my  brother 
and  Bell  Fatherlans."  ^ 

What  more  might  have  passed,  as  the  lovers 
had  now  come  to  a  perfect  understanding  with 
each  other,  it  is  needless  to  conjecture,  as  the 
return  of  the  old  gentlemen  interrupted  their  con- 
versation ;  so  that,  not  to  consume  the  precious 
time  of  our  readers  with  any  unnecessary  disquisi- 
tion, we  shall  only  say  that  some  objection  being 
stated  by  Grippy  to  the  first  Monday  as  a  day  too 
early  for  the  requisite  settlements  to  be  prepared, 
it  was  agreed  that  the  booking  should  take  place, 
as  Walter  had  proposed,  on  the  approaching  Satur- 
day, and  that  the  banns  should  be  published,  once 
on  the  first  Sunday,  and  twice  on  the  next,  and 
that  the  wedding  should  be  held  on  the  Tuesday 
following. 

1  See  Note  A,  Annals  of  the  Parish. 


CHAPTEE   XXVII 

W  HEN  Charles  and  Isabella  were  informed 
that  his  brother  and  Betty  Bodle  were  to  be 
bookit  on  Saturday, — that  is,  their  names  re- 
corded, for  the  publication  of  the  banns,  in  the 
books  of  the  kirk-session, — something  like  a 
gleam  of  light  seemed  to  be  thrown  on  the 
obscurity  which  invested  the  motives  of  the  old 
man's  conduct.  They  were  perfectly  aware  of 
Walter's  true  character,  and  concluded,  as  all 
the  world  did  at  the  time,  that  the  match  was 
entirely  of  his  father's  contrivance ;  and  they 
expected  that,  when  Walter's  marriage  settle- 
ment came  to  be  divulged,  they  would  then  learn 
what  provision  had  been  made  for  themselves. 
In  the  meantime  Charles  made  out  the  balance- 
sheet,  as  he  had  been  desired,  and  carried  it  in 
his  pocket  when  he  went  on  Saturday,  with  his 
wife,  to  dine  at  Grippy. 

The  weather  that  day  was  mild  for  the  season, 
but  a  thin  grey  vapour  filled  the  whole  air  and 
saddened  every  feature  of  the  landscape.  The 
birds   sat  mute   and    ourie,i   and  the    Clyde,   in- 

1  Ourk.       Shivering. 
164 


THE  ENTAIL 


!()'> 


creased  by  recent  u})land  rains,  grumbled  with 
the  hoarseness  of  his  wintry  voice.  The  solemnity 
of  external  nature  awakened  a  sympathetic  melan- 
choly in  the  minds  of  the  young  couple  as  they 
walked  towards  their  father's,  and  Charles  once 
or  twice  said  that  he  felt  a  degree  of  depression 
which  he  had  never  experienced  before. 

"I  wish,  Isabella,"  said  he,  "that  this  business 
of  ours  were  well  settled ;  for  I  begin,  on  your 
account,  to  grow  anxious.  I  am  not  superstitious  ; 
but  I  kenna  what's  in't — every  now  and  then  a 
thought  comes  over  me  that  I  am  no  to  be  a  long 
liver.  I  feel,  as  it  were,  that  I  havena  a  firm  grij) 
of  the  world — a  sma'  shock,  I  doubt,  would  easily 
shake  me  off." 

'^  I  must  own,"  replied  his  wife  with  softness, 
"  that  we  have  both  some  reason  to  regret  our 
rashness.  I  ought  not  to  have  been  so  weak  as 
to  feel  the  little  hardships  of  my  condition  so 
acutely  ;  but,  since  it  is  done,  we  must  do  our 
best  to  beai  up  against  the  anxiety  that  I  really 
think  you  indulge  too  much.  My  advice  is  that 
we  should  give  up  speaking  about  your  father's 
intents,  and  strive,  as  well  as  we  can,  to  make 
your  income,  whatever  it  is,  serve  us." 

"  That's  kindly  said,  my  dear  Bell  ;  but  you 
know  that  my  father's  no  a  man  that  can  be 
persuaded  to  feel  as  we  feel ;  and  I  would  not 
be  surprised  were  he  to  break  up  his  partner- 
ship with  me, — and  wdiat  sl.ould  we  then  do  ?  " 

In  this  sort  of  nnxious  and  domestic  conversation 


1()() 


THE  ENTxVIL 


they  approached  towards  Grippy  House,  where 
they  were  met  on  tlie  green  in  front  l)y  Mar<^aret 
and  George,  who  had  not  seen  them  since  their 
marriage  :  Miss  Meg,  as  she  was  commonly  called, 
being  at  the  time  on  a  visit  in  Argyleshire  with 
a  family  to  whom  their  mother  was  related,  the 
Campbells  of  Glengrowlmaghallochan,  and  George 
also  absent,  on  a  shooting  excursion  with  some  of 
his  acquaintances  at  the  Plealands,  the  mansion- 
house  of  which  happened  to  be  then  untenanted. 
Their  reception  by  their  brother  and  sister, 
especially  by  Miss  Meg,  was  kind  and  sisterly  ; 
for  although  in  many  points  she  resembled  her 
mother,  she  yet  possessed  much  more  warmth  of 
heart. 

The  gratulations  and  welcomings  being  over, 
she  gave  a  description  of  the  preparations  which 
had  already  commenced  for  Walter's  wedding. 
Na,  what  would  ye  think,"  said  she,  laugh- 
my  father  gied  him  ten  pounds  to  gang 
intil  Glasgow  the  day  to  buy  a  present  for  the 
bride,  and  ye'U  hardly  guess  what  he  has  sent 
her — a  cradle — a  mahogany  cradle,  shod  wi' 
roynes,!  that  it  mayna  waken  the  baby  when 
it's  rocking." 

"  But  that  wouldna  tak  all  the  ten  pounds," 
said  Charles,  diverted  by  the  circurastance . 
''What  has  he  done  wi'  the  rest.^" 

"  He  couldna  see  any  oilier  thing  to  please 
him,    so  he  tied  it  in  the  corner  of  his  napkin  ; 

^  Roynes.     Rinds. 


(( 


mg 


,  where 
largaret 
ce  their 
^  called, 
ire  with 
ted,  the 
George 
some  of 
nansion- 
^nanted. 
I  sister, 
sisterly ; 
bled  her 
irmth  of 


ig  over, 
IS  which 
ding. 

,    IdUgh- 

to  gang 
for  the 
las  sent 
lod  wi' 
)y   when 

;)ounds," 
ostance . 

o  please 
napkin  ; 


THE  ENTAIT. 


1G7 


but  as  he  was  coming  home  flourishing  it  round 
his  head,  it  haj:)pened  to  strike  the  crookit  tree 
at  the  water-side,  and  the  whole  tot  o'  the  siller, 
eight  guineas,  three  half-crowns,  and  eighieen- 
pence,  })layed  whirr  ^o  the  very  middle  o'  the 
Clyde.  He  hasna  got  the  grief  o'  the  loss 
grettin-out  yet." 

Before  there  was  time  for  any  observation  to 
be  made  on  this  misfortune,  the  bridegroom  came 
out  to  the  door,  seemingly  in  high  glee,  crying, 
"See  what  I  hae  gotten,"  showing  another  note 
for  ten  pounds,  which  his  father  had  given  to 
pacify  him  befoie  Kilmarkeckle  and  tiie  bride 
arrived,  they  being  also  expected  to  dinner. 

It  happened  that  Isabella,  dressed  in  her 
gayest  apparel  for  this  occasion,  liad  brought 
in  her  hand,  wrapped  in  paper,  a  pair  of  red 
morocco  shoes,  which  at  that  period  were  much 
worn  among  lairds'  daughters;  for,  the  roads 
being  deep  and  sloughy,  she  had,  according  to 
the  fasliion  of  the  age,  walked  in  others  of  a 
coarser  kind  ;  and  \^  alter' s  eye  accidentally  light- 
ing on  the  shoes,  he  M-ent  up,  without  preface, 
to  his  sister-in-law,  and  taking  the  parcel  gently 
oul  of  her  hand,  opened  it,  and  contemplating 
the  shoes,  holdi  ig  one  in  each  hand  at  arm's- 
length,  said,  *'  Bell  Fatherlans,  what  will  ye  tak 
to  sell  thir  bonny  red-cheekit  shoon  ?  I  would 
fain  buy  them  for  Betty  Bodle." 

Several  minutes  elapsed  before  it  was  possible 
to  return  any  answer;  but  when  composure  was 


H)8 


THE  ENTAIL 


in  some   (Icgrcc    iv'^aincd,    Mrs  Charles   Walkin- 
shaw  said — 

"  Ye  surely  would  never  buy  old  shoes  for 
your  bride  ?  I  have  worn  ihem  often.  It  would 
be  an  ill  omen  to  give  her  a  second  -  hand 
present,  Mr  Walter  ;  besides,  I  don't  think  they 
would  fit." 

This  little  incident  had  the  effect  of  tuning 
the  spirits  of  Charles  and  his  wife  into  some 
degree  of  unison  with  the  main  business  of  the 
day ;  and  the  whole  party  entered  the  house  ban- 
tering and  laughing  with  Walter.  But  scarcely 
had  they  been  seated  when  their  father  said — 

'^  Charlie,  has  t'ou  brought  the  balance-sheet, 
as  I  bade  thee  ?" 

This  at  once  silenced  both  his  mirth  and 
Isabella's,  and  the  old  man  expressed  his  satis- 
faction on  receiving  it,  and  also  that  the  profits 
were  not  less  than  he  expected. 

Having  read  it  over  carefully,  he  then  folded 
it  slowly  up  and  put  it  into  his  pocket,  and 
rising  from  his  seat,  walked  three  or  four  times 
across  the  room,  followed  by  the  eyes  of  his 
beating  -  hearted  son  and  daughter-in-law.  At 
last  he  halted. 

"  Weel,  Charlie,"  said  he,  "  I'll  no  be  waur 
than  my  word  to  thee — t'ou  sail  hae  a'  the  profit 
made  between  us  since  we  came  thegither  in 
the  shop  :  that  will  help  to  get  some  bits  o' 
plenishing  for  a  house — and  I'll  mak,  for  time 
coming,   an  eke   to  thy  share.     But  Charlie  and 


THE  ENTAIL 


1  ()<) 


Bell,  ca'  canny ;  buiivf  ;  will  rise  amon^  you,  and 
ve  maun  bear  in  mind  that  I  hae  baith  (it'ordie 
and  Me*;  to  provide  for  yet." 

This  was  said  in  a  fatherly  manner,  and  the 
intelligence  was  in  so  many  respects  airreeable 
that  it  atlorded  the  .anxious  young  couple  great 
pleasure.  Walter  was  not,  however,  satisfied  at 
jiearing  no  allusion  to  him,  and  he  said — 

''  And  are  ye  no  gaun  to  do  anything  for  me, 
father }  " 

These  words,  like  the  cut  of  a  scourge,  tingled 
to  the  very  soul  of  the  old  man,  and  he  looked 
with  a  fierce  and  devouring  eye  at  the  idiot, 
but  said  nothing.  Walter  was  not,  however, 
to  be  daunted ;  setting  up  a  cry,  something 
between  a  wail  and  a  howl,  lie  brought  his 
mother  flying  from  the  kitchen,  where  she  was 
busy  assisting  the  maids  in  preparing  dinner,  to 
incjuire  what  had  befallen  the  bridegroom. 

"  My  father's  making  a  step-bairn  o'  me, 
mother,  and  has  gi'en  Charlie  a'  the  outcome 
frae  the  till,  and  says  he's  gaun  to  hain  but  for 
Geordie  and  Meg." 

"  Surely,  gudeman,"  said  the  leddy  o'  Grippy, 
addressing  her  husband,  who  for  a  moment 
stood  confounded  at  this  obstreperous  accusa- 
tion, ^*^  surely  ye'U  hae  mair  naturality  than  no 
to  gie  Watty  a  bairn's  part  o'  gear }  Hasna  he 
a  riijht  to  share  and  share  alike  wi'  the  rest,  over 
and  aboon  what  he  got  by  my  father  }  If  there's 
law,  justice,  or  gospel  in  the  land,  ye'll  be  obli- 


170 


THE  ENTAIL 


jnratod  to  let  him  hae  liis  ri<j:ht,  an'  I  sliould  sell 
my  coat  to  pay  the  cost." 

The  old  man  made  no  answer  ;  and  his  children 
sat  in  wonder,  for  they  inferred  from  his  silencv 
that  he  actually  did  uitend  to  make  a  step-hairii 
of  Watty. 

"  Weel ! "  said  the  lady  emphatically,  '^  but  I 
jealoused  something  o'  this.  I  kent  there  could 
be  nae  good  at  the  bottom  o'  that  hu<^ger-muf]fger- 
inji^  \vi'  Keelevin.  Howsever,  I'll  see  til't,  Watty, 
and  I'll  gar  him  tell  what  he  has  put  intil  that 
abomination  o'  a  paper  that  ye  were  deluded  to 


sign. 


Claud,  at  these  words,  started  from  his  seat, 
with  the  dark  face  and  pale,  quivering  lips  of 
guilt  and  vengeance,  and  giving  a  stamp  with 
his  foot  that  shook  the  whole  house,  cried — 

"  If  ye  daur  to  mak  or  meddle  wi'  what  I  hae 
done  ! " 

He  paused  for  about  the  space  of  half  a  minute, 
and  then  he  added,  in  his  wonted  calm  and  sober 
voice, — "Watty,  t'ou  has  been  provided  more — 
I  hae  done  mair  for  thee  than  I  can  weel  excuse 
to  mysel'  —  and  I  charge  baith  thee  and  thy 
mother  never,  on  pain  of  my  curse  and  ever- 
lasting ill-will,  to  speak  ony  sic  things  again." 

''  What  hae  ye  done  ?  Canna  ye  tell  us,  and 
gie  a  bodie  a  satisfaction  ?  "  exclaimed  the  leddy. 

But  the  wrath  again  mustered  and  lowered  in 
his  visage,  and  he  said,  in  a  voice  so  deep  and 
dreadful,  so   hollow  and    so    troubled,   from   the 


THE  ENTAIL 


171 


very  innermost  caverns  of  his  spirit,  th.it  it  made 
Jill  present  tremble, — 

''Silence,  woman,  silence  !  " 

''Kh  :  there's  Betty  Bodle  and  her  father,"  ex- 
claimed Watty,  castin<r  his  eyes  at  that  moment 
towards  the  window,  and  rushing  from  his  seat, 
with  an  extrava<rant  Hutter,  to  meet  them,  thus 
happily  terminating  a  scene  which  threatened  to 
banish  the  anticipated  festivity  and  revels  of 
the  day. 


CHAPTEE    XXYIII 

LeDDY  GRIPPY,  having  been,  as  she  herself 
observed,  '' cheated  baith  o'  bridal  and  infare  by 
Charhe's  moonhght  marriage/'  was  resolved  to 
have  all  made  up  to  her,  and  every  jovial  and 
auspicious  rite  performed,  at  Walter's  wedding. 
Accordingly,  the  interval  between  the  booking 
and  the  day  appointed  for  the  ceremony  was 
with  her  all  bustle  and  business.  Nor  were  the 
preparations  at  Kilmarkeckle  to  send  forth  tlie 
bride  in  proper  trim  in  any  degree  less  active  or 
liberal.  Among  other  things,  it  had  been  agreed 
that  each  of  the  two  families  should  kill  a  cow 
for  the  occasion ;  but  an  accident  rendered  this 
unnecessary  at  Grippy. 

At  this  time  Kilmarkeckle  and  Grippy  ke])t 
two  bulls  who  cherished  the  most  dearUy  hatred 
of  each  other,  insomuch  that  their  respective 
herds  had  the  greatest  trouble  to  prevent  tliem 
from  constantly  fighting;  and  on  the  Thursday 
preceding  the  wedding-day,  Leddy  Grippy,  in 
the  multitude  of  her  cares  and  concerns,  having 
occasion  to  send  a  message  to  Glasgow,  and 
unable  to  spare  any  of  the  other  servants,  called 

172 


THE  ENTAIL 


173 


ants,  called 


the  cowboy  from  the  field,  and  despatched  him 
on  the  errand.  Bausy,  as  their  bull  was  called, 
taking  advantage  of  Iiis  keeper's  absence,  went 
muttering  and  growling  for  some  time  round  the 
enclosure,  till  at  last,  discovering  a  gap  in  the 
hedge,  he  leapt  through,  and  flourishing  his  tail 
and  grumbling  as  hoarse  as  an  earthquake,  he  ran, 
breathing  wrath  and  defiance,  straiglit  on  towards 
a  field  beyond  where  Gurl,  Kilmarkeckle's  bull, 
was  pasturing  in  the  most  conjugal  manner  with 
his  sultanas. 

Gurl  knew  the  voice  of  liis  foe,  and,  raising 
his  head  from  the  grass,  bellowed  a  hoarse  and 
sonorous  answer  to  the  challenger,  and  in  the 
same  moment  scampered  to  the  hedge,  on  the 
outside  of  which  Bausy  was  roaring  his  threats 
of  vengeance  and  slaughter.  Tlie  two  adversaries 
glared  for  a  moment  at  each  other,  and  then 
galloped  along  the  sides  of  the  hedge  in  quest 
of  an  opening  through  which  they  might  rush 
to  satisfy  their  rage. 

In  the  meantime  Kilmarkeckle's  herd-boy  had 
flown  to  the  house  for  assistance,  and  Miss  Betty, 
heading  all  the  servants  and  armed  with  a  fiail, 
came  at  double-quick  time  to  the  scene  of  action. 
But  before  she  could  bring  up  her  forces  Bausy 
burst  headlong  through  the  hedge  like  a  hurri- 
cane. Gurl,  however,  received  him  with  such  a 
thundering  batter  on  the  ribs  that  he  fell  reeling 
from  the  shock.  A  repetition  of  the  blow  laid 
him  on  the  ground,  gasping  and  struggling  with 


ITi 


THE  ENTAIL 


rage^  affony,  and  death ;  so  that,  before  the  bride 
and  her  alHes  were  able  to  drive  Gurl  from  his 
fallen  antagonist,  he  had  gored  and  fractured  hiin 
in  almost  every  bone  with  the  force  and  stren<jfth 
of  the  beam  of  a  steam-engine.  Thus  was  Leddy 
Grippy  prevented  from  killing  the  cow  which  she 
had  allotted  for  the  wedding-feast,  the  carcass  of 
Bausy  being  so  unexpectedly  substituted. 

But,  saving  this  accident,  nothing  went  ami-; 
in  the  preparations  for  the  wedding,  either  at 
Grippy  or  Kilmarkeckle.  All  the  neighbours  were 
invited,  and  the  most  joyous  anticipations  uni- 
versally prevailed  ;  even  Claud  himself  seemed  to 
be  softened  from  the  habitual  austerity  which  had 
for  years  gradually  encrusted  his  character,  and 
he  partook  of  the  hilarity  of  his  family,  and  joked 
with  the  leddy  in  a  manner  so  facetious  that  her 
spirits  mounted,  and,  as  she  said  herself,  ^*^were 
flichtering  in  the  very  air." 

The  bridegroom  alone,  of  all  those  who  took 
any  interest  in  the  proceedings,  appeared  thought- 
ful and  moody  ;  but  it  was  impossible  that  any 
lover  could  be  more  devoted  to  his  mistress: 
from  morning  to  night  he  hovered  round  the 
skirts  of  her  father's  mansion,  and  as  often  a 5  he 
got  a  peep  of  her  lie  laughed,  and  then  hastily 
retired,  wistfully  looking  behind,  as  if  he  hoped 
that  she  would  follow.  Sometimes  this  manoeuvre 
proved  successful,  and  Miss  Betty  permitted  him 
to  encircle  her  waist  with  his  arm,  as  they  ranged 
the  fields  in  amatory  communion  together. 


THE  ENTAIL 


175 


This,  although  perfectly  agreecable  to  tlieir 
happy  situation,  was  not  at  all  times  satisfactory 
to  his  mother ;  and  she  frequently  chicled  Watty 
for  neglecting  the  dinner-hour,  and  "  curdooing," 
as  she  said,  ''under  cloud  o'  night."  However, 
at  last  every  preparatory  rite  but  the  feet-washing  ^ 
was  performed  ;  and  that  it  also  might  be  accom- 
plished according  to  the  most  mirthful  observance 
of  the  ceremony  at  that  period,  Charles  and  George 
brought  out  from  Glasgow,  on  the  evening  prior 
to  the  wedding-day,  a  score  of  their  acquaintance 
to  assist  in  the  operation  on  the  bridegroom  ;  while 
Miss  Meg  and  all  the  maiden  friends  of  the  bride 
assembled  at  Kilmarkeckle  to  officiate  there.  But 
when  the  hour  arrived  Watty  was  absent.  During 
the  mixing  of  a  large  bowl  of  punch,  at  which 
Charles  presided,  he  had  slyly  escaped,  and  not 
answering  to  their  summons,  they  were  for  some 
time  surprised,  till  it  was  suggested  that  possibly 
he  might  have  gone  to  the  bride,  whither  they 
agreed  to  follow  him. 

Meanwhile  the  young  ladies  had  commenced 
their  operations  with  Miss  Betty.  The  tub,  the 
hot  water,  and  the  ring  were  all  in  readiness  ;  her 
stockings  w^ere  pulled  off,  and,  with  loud  laughter 
and  merry  scuffling,  and  many  a  freak  of  girlish 
jambol,  they  rubbed  her  legs,  and  winded  their 
fingers  through  the  water  to  find  the  ring  of  for- 
tune, till  a  loud  exulting  neigh  of  gladness  at  the 
window  at  once  silenced  their  mirth. 

1  Note  A. 


176 


THE  ENTAIL 


The  bride  raised  her  eyes  ;  her  maidens,  turning 
round  from  the  tub,  looked  towards  the  window, 
where  they  behekl  Watty  standing,  his  white 
teeth  and  hirge  dehghted  eyes  ghttering  in  the 
hght  of  the  room.  It  is  impossible  to  describe 
the  consternation  of  the  ladies  at  this  profane 
intrusion  on  their  peculiar  mysteries.  The  bride 
was  the  first  that  recovered  her  self-possession : 
leaping  from  her  seat,  and  oversetting  the  tub  in 
her  fury,  she  bounded  to  the  door,  and  seiziui^ 
Watty  by  the  cuff  of  the  neck,  shook  him  as  a 
tigress  would  a  buffalo. 

"The  deevil  ride  a-hunting  on  you,  W^atty 
W^alkinshaw ;  I'll  gar  you  glower  in  at  windows," 
was  her  endearing  salutation,  seconded  by  tlie 
whole  vigour  of  her  hand  in  a  smack  on  the 
face,  so  impressive  tliat  it  made  him  yell  till 
the  very  echoes  yelled  again.  "  Gang  hame 
wi'  you,  ye  roaring  bull  o'  Bashan,  or  I'll  take 
a  rung  ^  to  your  back,"  then  followed ;  and 
the  terrified  bridegroom  instantly  fled  cower- 
ingly,  as  if  she  actually  was  pursuing  him  with 
a  staff. 

"  I  trow,"  said  she,  addressing  herself  to  the 
young  ladies  who  had  come  to  the  door  after  her, 
"I'll  learn  him  better  manners  before  he's  long  in 
my  aught." 

"  I  would  be  none  surprised  w^ere  he  to  draw 
back,"  said  Miss  Jenny  Shortridge,  a  soft  «*uid 
diffident  girl,  who,  instead  of  joining  in  the  irre- 

^  Rivivt.     Heavy  stick. 


THE  ENTAIL 


177 


sistible  laughter  of  her  companions,  had  continued 
silent,  and  seemed  ahnost  petrified. 

"  Poo  !  "  exclaimed  the  bride  ;  "  he  draw  back  ! 
Watty  Walkinshaw  prove  false  to  me  !  He  danrna, 
woman,  for  his  very  life.  But,  come,  let  us  gang 
in  and  finish  the  fun." 

But  the  fun  had  suffered  a  material  abatement 
by  the  breach  which  had  thus  been  made  in  it. 
Miss  Meg  Walkinshaw,  however,  had  the  good 
luck  to  find  the  ring,  a  certain  token  that  she 
would  be  the  next  manned. 

In  the  meantime  the  chastised  bridegroom,  in 
running  homeward,  was  met  by  his  brothers  and 
their  companions,  to  whose  merriment  he  contri- 
buted quite  as  much  as  he  had  subtracted  from 
that  of  the  ladies,  by  the  sincerity  with  M'hich  he 
related  what  had  happened,  declaring  that  he 
would  rather  stand  in  the  kirk  than  tak  Betty 
Bodle  ;  which  detennination  Charles,  in  the  heed- 
lessness and  mirth  of  the  moment,  so  fortified  and 
encouraged  that  before  they  had  returned  back  to 
the  punch-bowl  W^alter  was  swearing  that  neither 
father  nor  mother  would  force  liim  to  marry  such 
a  dragoon.  The  old  man  seemed  more  disturbed 
than  might  have  been  expected,  from  his  know- 
ledge of  the  pliancy  of  W^alter's  disposition,  at 
hearing  him  in  this  humour ;  while  the  leddy  said, 
with  all  the  solemnity  suitable  to  her  sense  of  the 
indignity  which  her  favourite  had  suffered, — 

"  Biting  and  scarting  may  be  Scotch  folks' 
wooing  ;  but  if  that's  the  gait  Betty  Bodle  means 


VOL.   I. 


M 


178 


THE  ENTAIL 


to  use  you,  Watty,  my  dear,  I  would  see  her,  and 
a'  the  Kilmarkeckles  that  ever  were  cleckit,^  doon 
the  water,  or  strung  in  a  wuddy,-  before  I  woaid 
hae  onything  to  say  to  ane  come  o'  their  seed  or 
breed.  To  lift  her  hands  to  her  bridegroom  ' 
The  like  o't  was  never  heard  tell  o'  in  a  Christian 
land.  Na,  gudeman,  nane  o'  your  winks  and 
glooms  to  me — I  will  speak  out.  She's  a  perfect 
drum-major — the  randy  cutty — deevil  do  me  good 
o*  her.  It's  no  to  seek  what  I'll  gie  her  the 
morn." 

"  J^mna  grow  angry,  mother,"  interposed  Walter, 
thawing,  in  some  degree,  from  the  sternness  of 
his  resentment.  "It  wasna  a  very  sair  knock 
after  a'." 

"  T'ou's  a  fool  and  a  sumph  to  say  anything 
about  it,  Watty,"  said  Grippy  himself;  "many  a 
brawer  lad  has  met  wi'  far  ,yaar ;  and  if  t'ou 
hadna  been  eggit  on  by  Charlie  to  mak  a  com- 
plaint, i^  would  just  hae  passed  like  a  pat  for  true 
Jove. 

"  Eh,  na,  father,  it  wasna  a  pat,  but  a  scud  like 
the  clap  o'  a  fir-de.al,"  said  the  bridegroom. 

"Weel,  weel,  Watty,"  exclaimed  Charlie,  "you 
must  just  put  up  wi't ;  ye're  no  a  penny  the  waur 
o't."  By  this  sort  of  conversation  Walter  was  in 
the  end  pacified,  and  reconciled  to  his  destiny. 

^  Cle&kit.     Brought  forth.  2  Wuddy.     Halter. 


her,  and 
;it,^  doon 

I  would 
r  seed  or 
egroom  • 
[Christian 
nks  and 
a  perfect 
me  good 

her  the 

1  Walter, 
•nness  of 
ir  knock 

anything 

I'  many  a 

if  t'oii 

a  com- 

for  true 

icud  Hke 
a. 

lie,  "you 
le  waur 
\r  was  in 
itiny. 

alter. 


CHAPTER   XXIX 

JN  EVER  did  Nature  show  herself  better  pleased 
on  any  festival  than  on  Walter's  wedding-day. 
The  sun  shone  out  as  if  his  very  rays  were  as 
much  made  up  of  gladness  as  of  light.  The  dew- 
drops  twinkled  as  if  instinct  with  pleasure.  The 
birds  lilted  ;  the  waters  and  the  windows  sparkled  ; 
cocks  crowed  as  if  they  we/e  themselves  bride- 
grooms ;  and  the  sounds  of  laughing  girls  and 
cackling  hens  made  the  riant  banks  of  the 
Clyde  joyful  fo.   many  a  mile. 

It  was  originally  intended  that  the  minister 
should  breakfast  at  Kilmarkeckle,  to  perform  the 
ceremony  there ;  but  this,  though  in  accordance 
with  newer  and  genteeler  fashions,  was  overruled 
by  the  young  friends  of  the  bride  and  bridegroom 
insisting  that  the  wedding  should  be  celebrated 
with  a  ranting  dance  and  supper  worthy  of  the 
olden  and  (as  they  told  Leddy  Grippy)  better 
times.  Hence  the  liberality  of  the  preparations, 
as  intimated  in  the  preceding  chapter. 

In  furtherance  of  this  plan,  the  minister  and  all 
his  family  were  invited,  and  it  was  arranged  that 
the    ceremony    should    not    take    place    till   the 

179 


180 


THE  ENTAIL 


eveniii'T,  wlien  the  whole  friends  of  the  parties, 
with  tl  e  bride  and  bride<Troom  at  their  head, 
should  walk  in  procession  after  the  ceremony 
froni  the  manse  to  Gri})py,  where  the  barn,  by 
the  fair  hands  of  Miss  Meg  and  her  companions, 
was  garnished  and  garlanded  for  the  ball  and 
ban(piet.  Accordingly,  as  the  marriage-hour  drew 
near,  and  as  it  had  been  previously  concerted 
l)y  the  ''best  men"  on  both  sides,  a  numerous 
assemblage  of  the  guests  took  place,  both  at  Gripj)y 
and  Kilmarkeckle ;  and,  at  the  time  aj)pointed, 
the  two  parties,  respectively  carrying  with  them 
the  bride  and  bridegroom,  headed  by  a  piper 
playing  Hey  !  Id  us  a  to  the  bridal,  proceeded  to 
the  manse,  where  they  were  met  by  their  worthy 
parish  pastor  at  the  door. 

The    Reverend    Doctor    Denholm    was    one    of 
those  old  estimable  stock  characters  of  the  best 
days  of  the  presbytery  who,  to  great  learning  and 
sincere   piety,  evinced  an  inexhaustible  fimd  of 
couthyi  jocularity.      He  was  far  advanced  in  life 
— an  aged  man,  out  withal  hale  and  hearty,  and 
as  fond  of  an  innocent  ploy,  such  as  a  wedding 
or  a  christening,  as  the  blithest  spirit  in  its  teens 
of  any  lad  or  lass  in  the  parish.     But  he  was  not 
quite  prepared  to  receive  so  numerous  a  company ; 
nor,  indeed,  could  any  room  in  the  manse  have 
accommodated  half  the  party.     He  therefore  pro- 
posed to  perform  the  ceremony  under  the  great 
tree  which  sheltered  the  house  from  the  soutli- 
1  Couth y.     Frank,  familiar. 


west 

shelte 

to  tru 

To  thi 

dispos 

might 

or  for 

was  ai 

under 

"he  di 

a  tree. 

The 

tion  b 

been  r 

"  Gu 

had  ! " 

man  ! 

tree,  I' 

again  f^ 

bare-he 

the  spc 

"No 

present 

the  reli 

dinna 

I  hae 

marrir  2 

afford 

I)ayt  fo 

gloves 


THE   ENTAIL 


KSl 


west  wind  in  winter,  and  afforded  shade  and 
shelter  to  all  the  ])irds  of  sunnner  tliat  ventured 
to  trust  tliemselves  beneath  its  hos^iitablc  boughs. 
To  this,  however,  Walter,  the  bridegroom,  seemed 
disposed  to  r'lke  some  ol)jection,  alleging  that  it 
might  be  a  very  good  place  for  field-preaching, 
or  for  a  tent  on  sacramental  occasions,  "but  it 
was  an  unco-like  thing  to  think  of  marrying  folk 
under  the  canopy  of  the  heavens;"  adding  that 
"he  didna  think  it  was  canny  to  be  married  under 
a  tree." 

The  doctor,  however,  Scion  obviated  this  objec- 
tion by  assuring  him  that  Adam  and  Eve  had 
been  married  under  a  tree. 

"Gude  keep  us  a'  frae  sic  a  wedding  as  they 
had  ! "  replied  Watty,  "  where  the  deil  was  best 
man  !  Howsever,  doctor,  sin'  it's  no  an  apple- 
tree.  Til  rnak  a  conformity."  At  whicli  the  j)ipes 
Rgsxin  struck  up,  and,  led  by  the  wortliy  doctor 
bare-headed,  the  whole  assemblage  j)roceeded  to 
the  spot. 

"  Noo,  doctor,"  said  the  bridegroom,  as  all 
present  were  composing  tliemselves  to  listen  to 
the  religious  part  of  the  ceremony,  "  Noo,  doctor, 
dinna  scrimp  the  prayer,  but  tie  a  siccar  knot ; 
I  hae  nae  broo^  o'  the  carnality  o'  five-minute 
marrif  jes,  like  the  Glasgowers,  and  ye  can  weel 
afford  to  gie  us  half-an-hour,  'cause  ye're  weel 
payt  for  the  wind  o'  your  mouth:  the  hat  and 
gloves  I  sent  you  cost  me  four-and-twenty  shil- 

1  Broo.     Favour. 


182 


THE   KNTAIL 


lings,  clean  countit  out  to  my  brother  (  liarlic, 
that  wouidna,  in  his  ni,<Tgerality,  faik  me  a  sax- 
pence  on  a'  the  liveries  I  bought  frae  him." 

This  address  occasioned  a  little  delay  ;  but  order 
being  again  restored,  the  reverend  doctor,  folding 
his  hands  together,  and  lowering  his  eyelids,  and 
assuming  his  pulpit  ,  began  the  prayer. 

It  was  a  calm  and  beautiful  evening;  the  sun 
at  the  time  appeared  to  be  resting  on  the  flaky 
amber  that  adorned  his  western  throne,  to  look 
back  on  the  world,  as  if  pleased  to  see  the 
corn  and  the  fruits  gathered,  with  which  he  had 
assisted  to  fill  the  wide  lap  of  the  matronly  earth. 
We  happened  at  the  time  to  be  walking  alone 
towards  Blantyre,  enjoying  the  universal  air  of 
contentment  with  which  all  things  at  the  golden 
sunsets  of  autumn  invite  the  anxious  spirit  of 
man  to  serenity  and  repose.  As  we  approached 
the  little  gate  that  opened  to  the  footpath  across 
the  glebe  by  which  the  road  to  the  village  was 
abridged  to  visitors  on  foot,  our  attention  was 
first  drawn  towards  the  wedding-party  by  the 
kindly,  pleasing,  deep-toned  voice  of  the  vener- 
able pastor,  whose  solemn  murmurs  rose  softly 
into  the  balmy  air,  diffusing  all  around  an  odour 
of  holiness  that  sweetened  the  very  sense  of  life. 

We  paused,  and,  uncovering,  walked  gently  and 
quietly  towards  the  spot,  which  we  reached  just 
as  the  worthy  doctor  had  bestowed  the  benedic- 
tion. The  bride  looked  blushing  and  expectant; 
but  Walter,  instead  of  saluting  her  in  the  cus- 


THE  ENTAIL 


IHli 


toinary  manner,  held  her  by  the  Iiand  at  arni's- 
lenjifth,  and  said  to  the  doctor,  'Mie  served." 

"  Ye  should  kiss  her,  bridegroom,"  said  the 
minister. 

"I  ken  that,"  replied  Watty,  'M)iit  no  till  my 
betters  be  served.      Help  yoursel',  doctor." 

Upon  which  the  doctor,  wipin<ij  his  mouth  with 
the  back  of  his  hand,  enjoyed  himself  as  lie  was 
requested. 

"It's  the  last  buss,"  added  Walter,  "it's  the 
last  buss,  Betty  Bodle,  ye'll  e'er  gie  to  mortal 
man  while  I'm  your  gudeman." 

"  I  didna  think,"  said  the  reverend  doctor  aside 
to  us,  "  that  the  creature  had  sic  a  knowledge  o' 
the  vows." 

The  pipes  at  this  crisis  being  again  filled,  the 
guests,  hand  in  hand,  following  the  bridegroom 
and  bride,  then  marched  to  the  ornamented  barn 
at  Grippy,  to  which  we  were  invited  to  follow. 
But  what  then  ensued  deserves  a  new  chapter. 


CHAPTER    XXX 

XXAVING  accepted  the  invitation  to  come  with 
the  minister's  family  to  the  wedding,  we  stopjx-d 
and  took  tea  at  the  manse  with  the  reverend 
doctor  and  Mrs  Denhohn, — the  young  hidies  and 
their  brother  having  joined  the  procession.  For 
all  our  days  we  have  been  naturally  of  a  most 
sedate  turn  of  mind  ;  and  although  then  but  in 
our  twenty-third  year,  we  preferred  the  temperate 
good-humour  of  the  doctor's  conversation  and 
the  householdry  topics  of  his  wife  to  the  bois- 
terous blare  of  the  bagpipes.  As  soon,  however, 
as  tea  was  over,  with  Mrs  Denhohn  dressed  in 
her  best  and  the  pastor  in  his  newest  suit,  we 
proceeded  towards  Grippy. 

By  this  time  the  sun  was  set,  but  the  speckless 
topaz  of  the  western  skies  diffused  a  golden 
twilight  that  tinged  every  object  with  a  pleasing 
mellow  softness.  Like  the  wedding-ring  of  a 
bashful  bride,  the  new  moon  just  showed  her 
silver  rim  and  the  evening  star  was  kindling  her 
lamp  as  we  approached  the  foot  of  the  avenue 
which  led  to  llie  house,  the  windows  of  which 
sparkled  with  festivity  ;  while  from  the  barn  the 

184 


THK   K\TA[L 


18') 


merry  yelps  of  two  (Ifllj^htcd  (iddlt's  and  the 
i(()()d-himi<»uri'd  i^rimibliii^  of  a  woll-pK-uscd  l).iss, 
min^lin^  with  lau<rhtt>r  and  scjiicaks  and  the 
thuddini^  of  bouniUniif  feet,  made  every  pulse  in 
our  young  hlood  circle  as  briskly  as  the  dancers 
in  their  reeling. 

When  we  reached  the  door,  the  moment  that 
the  venerable  minister  made  his  appearance  the 
music  stopped  and  the  dancing  was  suspended, — 
by  which  we  were  enabled  to  survey  the  assembly 
for  «a  few  minutes  in  its  most  composed  and  cere- 
monious form.  At  the  upper  end  of  the  barn 
stood  two  arm-chairs,  one  of  which,  appro})riated 
to  the  bridegroom,  was  empty;  in  the  other  sat 
the  bride,  j)anting  from  the  vigorous  etlorts  she 
had  made  in  the  reel  that  was  interrupteil  by  our 
entrance.  The  bridegroom  himself  was  standing 
near  a  table  close  to  the  musicians,  stirring  a  large 
})unch-bowl  and  filling  from  time  to  time  the 
glasses.  His  father  sat  in  a  corner  by  himself, 
with  his  hands  leaning  on  his  staff  and  his  lips 
firmly  drawn  together,  contemplating  the  scene 
before  him  with  a  sharp  but  thoughtful  eye.  Old 
Kilmarkeckle,  witli  an  ivory  snufl'-box,  mounted 
with  gold,  in  his  hand,  was  sitting  with  Mr 
Keelevin  on  the  left  hand  of  Claud,  evidently 
explaining  some  remarkable  property  in  the 
flavour  of  the  snuff,  to  which  the  honest  lawyer 
was  paying  the  utmost  attention,  looking  at  the 
})liilosophical  laird,  however,  every  now  and  then, 
with  a  countenance  at  once  expressive  of  jidmira- 


18(j 


THE  ENTAIL 


tioi;  curiosity,  and  laughter.  Leddy  Grippy  sat 
on  tne  left  of  the  bride,  apparelled  in  a  crimson 
satin  gown  made  for  the  occasion,  with  a  stupen- 
dous fabric  of  gauze  and  catgut,  adorned  with 
vast  convolutions  of  broad  red  ribands  for  a  head- 
dress, and  a  costly  French  shawl,  primly  pinned 
open,  to  show  her  embroidered  stomacher.  At 
her  side  sat  the  meek  and  beautiful  Isabella,  like 
a  primrose  within  the  shadow  of  a  peony ;  and  on 
Isabella's  left  the  aged  Lady  Plealands,  neatly 
dressed  in  white  silk,  with  a  close  cap  of  black 
lace,  black  silk  mittens,  and  a  rich  black  apron. 
But  we  must  not  attempt  thus  to  describe  all  the 
guests,  who,  to  the  number  of  nearly  a  hundred, 
young  and  old,  were  seated  in  various  groups 
around  the  sides  of  the  barn ;  for  our  attention 
was  drawn  to  Milrookit,  the  laird  of  Dirdum- 
whamle,  a  hearty  widower  for  the  second  time, 
about  forty-five — he  might  be  older — who,  cozily 
in  a  corner,  was  engaged  in  serious  courtship  with 
Miss  Meg. 

When  the  formalities  of  respect  with  which 
Doctor  Denholm  was  so  properly  received  had 
been  duly  performed,  the  bridegroom  bade  the 
fiddlers  again  play  up,  and  going  towards  the 
minister,  said,  "  Do  ye  smell  onything  gude, 
sir  r 

"  No  doubt,  bridegroom,"  replied  the  doctor, 
"  I  canna  be  insensible  to  the  pleasant  savour  of 
the  supper." 

"Come  here,  then,"  rejoined  Watty,  ''and  I'll 


THE   ENTAir. 


is: 


show  you  a  sight  would  do  a  hungry  body  good — 
Mccl  I  wat  my  mother  hasna  spared  her  skill  and 
spice."  In  saying  whieli,  he  lifted  aside  a  carjjet 
that  had  been  drawn  across  tiie  barn  like  a  curtain, 
behind  the  seats  at  the  up})er  end  of  the  ball- 
room, and  showed  him  the  sup})er-table,  on  whicli 
about  a  dozen  men  and  maid  servants  were  in  the 
act  of  piling  joints  and  pies  that  would  have  done 
credit  to  the  Michaelmas  dinner  of  the  Glasgow 
magistrates. 

*'  Isna  that  a  gallant  banquet  ? "  said  Watty. 
^'Look  at  yon  braw  pastry  pie  wi'  the  king's 
crown  on't." 

The  reverend  pastor  declared  that  it  was  a  very 
edificial  structure,  and  he  had  no  doubt  it  was  as 
good  as  it  looked.  "  Would  ye  like  to  pree't, 
doctor  }  I'll  just  nip  off'ane  o'  the  pearlies  on  the 
crown  to  let  you  taste  how  good  it  is.  It'll  never 
be  missed." 

The  bride,  who  overheard  part  of  this  dia- 
logue, started  up  at  these  words ;  and  as 
Walter  was  in  the  act  of  stretching  forth  his 
hand  to  plunder  the  crown,  she  pulled  him  by 
the  coat-tail  and  drew  him  into  the  chair  ap- 
propriated for  him,  sitting  down,  at  the  same 
time,  in  her  own  on  his  left,  saying,  in  an  angry 
whisper, — ^'Are  ye  fou  already,  Watty  Walkin- 
shaw  }  If  ye  mudge  ^  out  o'  that  seat  again  this 
night,  I'll  mak  you  as  sick  o'  pies  and  puddings 
as  ever  a  dog  was  o'  het  kail." 

1  Mudge.    Stir. 


188 


THE  ENTAIL 


Nothing  more  particular  happened  before 
supper ;  and  everything  went  off*  at  the  banquet 
as  mirthfully  as  on  any  similar  occasion.  The 
dancing  was  then  resumed,  and  during  the  bustle 
and  whirl  of  the  reels  the  bride  and  bride- 
groom were  conducted  quietly  to  the  house  to 
be  bedded. 

When  they  were  undressed,  but  before  the 
stocking  was  thrown,  we  got  a  hint  from  Charles 
to  look  at  the  bridal  chamber,  and  accordingly 
ran  with  him  to  the  house,  and  bolting  into  the 
room,  beheld  the  happy  pair  sitting  up  in  bed, 
with  white  napkins  drawn  over  their  heads  like 
two  shrouds,  and  each  holding  one  of  their  hands 
so  as  to  conceal  entirely  their  modest  and  down- 
cast faces.  But,  before  we  had  time  to  say  a 
word,  the  minister,  followed  by  the  two  pipers 
and  the  best  men  and  bridesmaids,  bringing 
posset  and  cake,  came  in  ;  and  while  the  distribu- 
tion, with  the  customary  benedictions,  was  going 
forward,  dancing  was  recommenced  in  the  bed- 
room. 

How  it  happened,  or  what  was  the  cause,  wo 
know  not ;  but  the  dancing  continued  so  long, 
and  was  kept  up  with  so  much  glee,  that  some- 
how, by  the  crowded  state  of  the  apartment,  the 
young  pair  in  bed  were  altogether  forgotten,  till 
the  bridegroom,  tired  with  sitting  so  long  like  a 
mummy,  lost  all  patience,  and,  in  a  voice  of  rage 
and  thunder,  ordered  every  man  and  mother's  son 
instantly  to  quit  the  room — a  command  which  he 


was  going 
1  the  bed- 


THE  ENTAIL 


189 


as  vehemently  i^peated  with  a  menace  of  imme- 
diate punishment,  {)utting,  at  the  same  time,  one 
of  his  legs  out  of  bed  and  clenching  his  fist  in 
the  act  of  rising.  The  bride  cowered  in  giggling 
beneath  the  coverlet,  and  all  the  other  ladies, 
followed  by  the  men  and  the  pipers,  fled  pell-mell 
and  hurly-burly,  glad  to  make  their  escape. 


CHAPTEE   XXXI 


i: 


W  HEN  Claud  first  proposed  the  marriage  to 
Kilmarkeckle,  it  was  intended  that  the  youn<r 
couple  should  reside  at  Plealands ;  but  an  oppor- 
tunity had  occurred,  in  the  meantime,  for  Mr 
Keelevin  to  intimate  to  Mr  Auchincloss  (the  gentle 
man  who  possessed  the  two  farms,  which,  with 
the  Grippy,  constituted  the  ancient  estate  of 
Kittlestonheugh)  that  Mr  Walkinshaw  would  be 
glad  to  make  an  excambio  with  him,  and  not  only 
give  Plealands,  but  even  a  considerable  induce- 
ment in  money.  This  proposal,  particularly  the 
latter  part  of  it,  was  agreeable  to  Mr  Auchincloss, 
who  at  the  time  stood  in  want  of  ready  money  to 
establish  one  of  his  sons  in  the  Virginia  trade ; 
and,  in  consequence,  the  negotiation  was  soon 
speedily  brought  to  a  satisfactory  termination. 

But  in  this  affair  Grippy  did  not  think  fit  to 
confer  with  any  of  his  sons.  He  was  averse  to 
speak  to  Charles  on  the  subject,  possibly  from 
some  feeling  connected  with  the  deed  of  entail ; 
and  it  is  unnecessnry  to  say  that,  although  V.  alter 
was  really  princi])al  in  the  business,  he  had  no 
regard  for  what  hi:j  opinion  might  be.      The  conse- 


THE  ENTAIL 


1  r  1 


quence  of  which  was  that  tlie  bridcii^room  was  not 
u  little  amazed  to  Imd,  next  day,  on  proposiii<^  to 
ride  the  Broiis  to  his  own  house  at  Plealands,  and 
to  hold  the  infare  there,  thai:  it  was  intended  to 
he  assigned  to  Mr  Auchincloss,  and  that,  as  soon 
as  his  family  were  removed  thither,  the  house  of 
Divethill,  one  of  the  exchanged  farms,  would  be 
set  in  order  for  him  in  its  stead. 

The  moment  that  this  explanation  was  given  to 
Walter  he  remembered  the  parchments  which  he 
had  signed,  and  the  agitation  of  his  father  on  the 
way  home,  and  he  made  no  scruple  of  loudly 
and  bitterly  declaring,  with  many  a  lusty  sob, 
that  he  was  cheated  out  of  his  inheritance  by  his 
father  and  Charles.  The  old  man  was  confounded 
at  this  view  which  the  natural  plausibly  enough 
took  of  the  arrangement ;  but  yet,  anxious  to 
conceal  from  his  first-born  the  injustice  with 
which  he  had  used  him  in  the  entail,  he  at  first 
attempted  to  silence  Walter  by  threats,  and  then 
to  cajole  him  with  promises,  but  without  effect. 
At  last,  so  high  did  the  conflict  rise  between  them 
that  Leddy  Grippy  and  Walter's  wife  came  into 
the  room  to  inquire  what  had  happened. 

"O  Betty  Bodle  ! "  exclaimed  Walter  the 
moment  he  saw  them,  ^^  what  are  we  to  do.^* 
My  father  has  beguiled  me  o'  the  Plealands,  and 
I  hae  neither  house  nor  ha'  to  tak  you  to.  He 
has  gart  me  wise  ^  it  awa  to  Charlie,  and  we'll  hae 
naething  as  lang  as  Kilmarkeckle  lives  but  scant 

^  Gart  me  wise.     Caused  me  to  will. 


192 


THE  ENTAIL 


M 


and  want  and  be^'s^ary,  It's  no  ray  faii't,  Bettv 
Bodle,  that  ye'll  hae  to  work  for  your  daily  bread  ; 
the  sin  o't  a'  is  my  father's.  But  I'll  help  you  a' 
I  can,  Betty ;  and  if  ye  turn  a  washerwoman  on 
the  Cireen  of  Glasgow,  I'll  carry  your  boynes,  and 
water  your  claes,  and  watch  them,  that  ye  may 
sleep  when  ye're  wearied,  Betty  Bodle — for  though 
he's  a  false  father,  I'll  be  a  true  gudcman." 

Betty  Bodle  sat  down  in  a  chair,  with  her  back 
to  the  window,  and  Walter,  going  to  her,  hung 
over  lier  with  an  air  of  kindness  which  his  sim- 
plicity rendered  at  once  affecting  and  tender; 
while  Leddy  Grippy,  petrified  by  what  she  heard, 
also  sat  down,  and  leaning  herself  back  in  her 
seat,  with  a  look  of  amazement,  held  her  arms 
streaked  down  by  her  side,  with  all  her  fingers 
stretched  and  spread  to  the  utmost.  Claud  him- 
self was  for  a  moment  overawed,  and  had  almost 
lost  his  wonted  self-possession  at  the  just  accusa- 
tion of  being  a  false  father ;  but,  exerting  all  his 
firmness  and  fortitude,  he  said  calmly — 

'^  I  canna  bear  this  at  thy  hand,  Watty.  I  hae 
secured  for  thee  far  mair  than  the  Plealands  ;  and 
is  the  satisfaction  that  I  thought  to  hae  had  this 
day,  noo  wOien  I  hae  made  a  conquest  of  the  lands 
o'  my  forefathers,  to  be  turned  into  sadness  and 
bitterness  o'  heart }  " 

"Wliat  hae  ye  secured?"  exclaimed  Leddy 
Grippy.  "  Isna  it  ordaint  that  Charlie,  by  his 
birthright,  will  get  your  lands  }  How  is't,  then, 
that  ye  hae  wrang't  W^atty  o'  his  ain,  the  braw 


prope 
will  a 
ye  di 
pookc 
kittle 
Weel 


gang 


THE  ENTAIL 


193 


property  that  my  wort)  father  left  him  both  by 
will  and  testament*?  Jxii  he  had  been  to  the  fore, 
ye  durstna,  gudeman,  hae  played  at  sic  jookery- 
pookery ;  for  he  had  a  skill  o'  law,  and  kent  the 
kittle  points  in  a  manner  that  ye  can  never  fathom. 
Weel  wat  I  that  your  ellwand  would  hae  been  a 
jimp  measure  to  the  sauvendie  ^  o'  his  books  and 
Latin  taliations.  But,  gudeman,  ye's  no  get  a' 
your  ain  way.  I'll  put  on  my  cloak,  and,  Betty 
Bodle,  put  on  yours,  and  Watty,  my  ill-used  bairn, 
get  your  hat.  We'll  ouer  for  Kilmarkeckle,  and 
gang  a'  to  Mr  Keelevin  together  to  make  an  inter- 
locutor about  this  most  dreadful  extortioning." 

The  old  man  absolutely  shuddered  ;  his  face 
became  yellow  and  liis  lips  white  with  anger  and 
vexation  at  this  s})eech. 

"Girzy  Hypel,"  said  he  with  a  troubled  and 
broken  voice,  ''  were  t'ou  a  woman  o'  understand- 
ing, or  had  t'at  haverel  get  o'  thine  the  gumption 
o'  a  sooking  turkey,  I  could  speak,  and  confound 
your  injustice,  were  I  no  restrained  by  a  sense  of 
my  own  shame." 

''  But  what's  a'  this  stoor  about  ? "  said  the 
young  wife,  addressing  herself  to  her  father-in-law. 
"Surely  ye  11  no  objeck  to  mak  me  the  wiser? " 

"  No,  my  dear,"  replied  Claud  ;  "  I  hope  I  can 
speak  and  be  understood  by  thee.  I  hae  gotten 
Mr  Auchincloss  to  mak  an  excambio  of  the  Divet- 
hill  for  the  Plealands,  by  the  whilk  the  whole  of 
the  Kittlestonheugh  patrimony  will  be  redeemed 

1  Sauvendie.     Knowledge,  understanding. 
VOL.   I.  N 


1.9t 


THE  ENTAIL 


to  the  family  ;  and  I  intend  and  wish  you  and 
Watty  to  live  at  the  Divethill,  our  neighbours 
here,  and  your  father's  neighbours.  That,  my 
bairn,  is  the  whole  stramash." 

"  But,"  said  she,  "  when  ye're  dead  will  we 
still  hae  the  Divethill  ?  " 

"No  doubt  o'  that,  my  dawty,"  said  the  old 
man,  delighted  ;  '^'and  even  lar  mair." 

"Then,  Watty  Walkinshaw,  ye  gaumeril,"  said 
she,  addressing  her  husband,  "what  would  ye  be 
at  ?  Your  father's  a  most  just  man,  and  will  do 
you  and  a'  his  weans  justice." 

"But,  for  a'  that,"  said  Leddy  Grippy  to  her 
husband,  somewhat  bamboozled  by  the  view 
which  her  daughter-in-law  seemed  to  take  of 
the  subject,  "when  will  we  hear  o'  you  giving 
hundreds  o'  pounds  to  Watty,  as  ye  did  to 
Charlie,  for  a  matrimonial  handsel  ?  " 

"  I'm  sure,"  replied  the  laird,  "  were  the  like 
o'  that  to  quiet  thy  unruly  member,  Girzy,  and 
be  any  satisfaction  to  thee  that  I  iiae  done  ni}' 
full  duty  to  Walter,  a  fivescore  pound  shouldna 
be  wanting  to  stap  up  the  gap." 

"I'll  tell  you  what  it  is,  father,"  inteiTuptcd 
W^alter,  "if  ye'U  gie  the  whole  soom  o'  a  hunder 
pound,  I  carena  gin  ye  mak  drammock^  o'  the 
Plealands." 

"  A  bargain  be't,"  said    Claud,    happy   to    be 
relieved  from  their  importunity ;  but  he  added, 
with  particular  emphasis,  to  Watty's  wife, — 
1  Dmmmock.    Freely,  pulp. 


THE  ENTAIL 


195 


"  Dinna  ye  tak  ony  care  about  what's  passed. 
The  Divethill's  a  good  exrambio  for  the  Plea- 
lands  ;  and  it  sail  be  bound,  as  stiffly  as  law 
and  statute  can  tether,  to  you  and  your  heirs 
by  Walter." 

Thus  so  far  Grippy  continued  to  sail  before 
the  wind ;  and  perhaps,  in  the  steady  pursuit  of 
his  object,  he  met  with  as  few  serious  obstacles 
as  most  adventurers.  What  sacrifice  of  internal 
feeling  he  may  have  made  may  be  known  here- 
after. In  the  meantime,  the  secrets  and  mysteries 
of  his  bosom  were  never  divulged,  but  all  his 
thoughts  and  anxieties  as  carefully  hidden  from 
the  world  as  if  the  disclosure  of  them  would 
have  brought  shame  on  himself.  Events  press, 
however,  and  we  must  proceed  with  the  current 
of  our  history. 


CHAPTER   XXXII 

jtVLTHOUGH  Claud  had  accomplislied  the  great 
object  of  all  his  strivin<ifs,  and  although  from  the 
Divethill,  where  the  little  castle  of  his  forefathers 
once  stood,  he  could  contemplate  the  whole  ex- 
tent of  the  KiUlestonheugh  estate, — restored,  as 
he  said,  to  the  Walkinshaws,  and  by  his  exer- 
tions,— there  was  still  a  craving  void  in  his  bosom 
that  yearned  to  be  satisfied.  He  felt  as  if  the 
circumstance  of  Watty  having  a  legal  interest  in 
the  property,  arising  from  the  exeambio  for  the 
Plealands,  made  the  conquest  less  certainly  his 
own  than  it  might  have  been,  and  this  lessened 
the  enjoyment  of  the  self-gratulation  with  which 
he  contemplated  the  really  proud  eminence  to 
which  he  had  attained. 

But  keener  feelings  and  harsher  recollections 
were  mingled  with  that  regret ;  and  a  sentiment 
of  sorrow,  in  strong  affinity  with  remorse,  em- 
bittered his  meditations  when  he  thought  of 
the  precipitancy  with  which  he  had  executed  the 
irrevocable  entail,  to  the  exclusion  of  Charles,  to 
whom,  prior  to  that  unjust  transaction,  he  had 
been   more   attached  than  to   any  other  human 

106 


THE  ENTAIL 


U)7 


I 

d  the  great 
h  from  the 
forefathers 
;  whole  ex- 
restored,  as 
y  his  exer- 
1  his  bosom 
it  as  if  the 
interest  in 
bio  for  the 
ertainly  his 
lis  lessened 
with  which 
minence  to 

ecollections 
I  sentiment 
morse,  em- 
thought  of 
cecuted  the 
Charles,  to 
on,  he  had 
er  human 


l)eing.  It  is  true  that,  when  he  adopted  that 
novel  resolution,  he  had  appeased  his  conscience 
with  intentions  to  indemnify  his  unfortunate 
first-born  ;  but  in  this  he  was  not  aware  of  tiie 
mysteries  of  the  heart,  nor  that  there  was  a 
latent  spring  in  his  breast,  as  vigorous  and 
elastic  in  its  energy  as  the  source  of  that  inde- 
fatigable j)erseverance  by  which  he  had  accom- 
plished so  nmch. 

The  constant  animadversions  of  his  wife  re- 
specting his  partiality  for  Charles  and  undis- 
guised contempt  for  Watty  had  the  effect  of  first 
awakening  the  powers  of  that  dormant  engine. 
They  galled  the  sense  of  his  own  injustice,  and 
kept  the  memory  of  it  so  continually  before  him 
that,  in  the  mere  wish  not  to  give  her  cause  to 
vex  him  for  his  partiality,  he  estranged  himself 
from  Charles  in  such  a  manner  that  it  was  soon 
obvious  and  severely  felt.  Conscious  that  he  had 
done  him  wrong,  aware  that  the  wrong  would 
probably  soon  be  discovered,  and  conscious,  too, 
that  this  behaviour  was  calculated  to  beget  sus- 
picion, he  began  to  dislike  to  see  Charles,  and 
alternately  to  feel,  in  every  necessary  interview, 
as  if  he  was  no  longer  treated  by  him  with  the 
same  respect  as  formerly.  Still,  however,  there 
was  so  much  of  the  leaven  of  original  virtue  in 
the  composition  of  his  paternal  affection  and  in 
the  general  frame  of  his  character  that  this 
disagreeable  feeling  never  took  the  decided 
nature  of  enmity.     He  did  not  hate  because  he 


lf)H 


THK  KNTAir. 


hud  injured  ;  he  was  only  appreliensive  of  bfin<r 
upbraided  for  liavin^  betrayed  liopes  whieli  Iw; 
well  knew  his  partieular  affeetion  nuist  have 
necessarily  insjiired. 

Perhaps  had  not  he,  innnediately  after  Walter's 
marria<jfe,  been  oeeuj)ied  with  the  le^al  arran<^(:- 
rnent  consequent  to  an  accepted  j)roposal  from 
Milrookit  of  Dirduniwhande  to  make  Miss  Mvir 
his  third  wife,  this  apprehension  might  have  har- 
dened into  animosity  and  been  exasperated  to 
aversion.  But  the  cares  and  affairs  of  that  busi- 
ness came,  as  it  were,  in  fdd  of  the  father  in  his 
nature,  and  while  they  seemingly  served  to  excuse 
his  gradually  abridged  intercourse  with  Charles 
and  Isabella,  they  prevented  such  an  incurable 
induration  of  his  heart  from  taking  place  towards 
them  as  the  feelings  at  work  within  him  had  an 
undoubted  tendency  to  produce.  We  shall  not 
dwell,  therefore,  on  the  innumerable  little  inci- 
dents arising  out  of  his  estrangement  by  which 
the  happiness  of  that  ill-fated  pair  was  deprived  of 
so  much  of  its  best  essence — contentment — ,  and 
their  lives,  with  the  endearing  promise  of  a  family, 
embittered  by  anxieties  of  which  it  would  be  as 
difficult  to  describe  the  i'.nportance  as  to  give  each 
of  them  an  appropriate  name. 

In  the  meantime,  the  marriage  of  Miss  Meg 
was  consummated.  We  have  every  disposition  to 
detail  therites  and  the  revels ;  but  they  were  all 
managed  in  a  spirit  so  much  more  moderate  than 
Walter's  wedding  that  the  feast  would  seem  made 


*' 


^^ 


THE  ENTAIL 


VJ9 


er  Walter's 


ii|)  but  of  tlie  cold  hakemeats  of  tlie  former 
baiKjiR't.  Indeed,  Mr  Miirookil,  the  l)ride«rrooni, 
bein^  (as  Leddy  (Jrippv  called  bim)  a  waster  of 
wives, — having  bad  two  before,  and  wbo  knows 
bow  many  more  be  may  bave  contemplated  to 
iuive  ? — it  would  not  bave  been  reasonable  to 
expect  tbat  he  sliould  allow  sueli  a  free-banded 
junketing  as  took  j)lace  on  tbat  occasion.  Besides 
tiiis,  the  dowry  with  (xrip})y's  daughter  was  not 
quite  so  liberal  as  be  had  exj)ected  ;  for  when  the 
old  man  was  stipulating  for  her  jointure,  he  gave 
bim  a  gentle  hint  not  to  expect  too  much. 

"Two  hundred  pounds  a  year,  Mr  Milrookit," 
said  Grippy,  "  is  a  bare  eneugli  sufficiency  for  my 
docbter ;  but  I'll  no  be  overly  extortionate,  sin' 
it's  no  in  my  power,  even  noo,  to  gie  you  muckle 
in  hand.  And  I  wouldna  lead  you  to  expeck  any 
great  deal  hereafter ;  for  ye  ken  it  has  cost  me  a 
world  o'  pains  and  ettling  to  gather  the  needful 
to  redeem  the  Kittlestonbeugb,  the  whilk  maun 
aye  gang  in  the  male  line  ;  but,  failing  my  three 
sons  and  their  heirs,  the  entail  gangs  to  the  heirs- 
general  o'  Meg,  so  that  ye  hae  a'  to  look  in  that  airt : 
that,  ye  maun  alloo,  is  worth  something.  Hows- 
ever,  I  dinna  objeck  to  the  two  hundred  pounds ; 
but  I  would  like  an'  ye  could  throw  a  bit  fifty  til't, 
just  as  a  cast  o'  the  hand  to  mak  lucky  measure." 

"  I  wouldna  begrudge  tbat,  Grippy,"  replied 
the  gausy  widower  of  Dirdumwhamle ;  "  but  ye 
ken  1  hae  a  sma'  family  :  the  first  Mrs  Milrookit 
brought  me  sax  sons,  and  the  second  had  four,  wi' 


200 


THE  ENTAIL 


five  dcchters.  It's  true  that  the  bairns  o*  the  last 
decking  are  to  be  provided  for  by  their  mother's 
uncle,  the  auld  general  wi'  the  gout  at  Lunnon ; 
but  my  first  family  are  dependent  on  mysel',  for, 
like  your  Charlie,  I  made  a  calf-love  marriage, 
and  my  father  wasna  sae  kind  to  me  as  ye  hae 
been  to  him,  for  he  put  a'  past  me  that  he  could, 
and  had  he  no  dee't  among  hands  in  one  o'  his 
scrieds  ^  wi'  the  lairds  o'  Kilpatrick,  I'm  sure  I 
Ciinna  think  what  would  hae  come  o'  me  and  my 
first  wife.     So  you  see,  Gri})py " 

"  I  wis,  Dirdumwhamle,"  interrupted  the  old 
man,  "  that  ye  would  ca'  me  either  by  name  or  by 
Kittlestonheugh,  for  the  Grippy's  but  a  pendicle  - 
o'  the  family  property ;  and  though,  by  reason  o' 
the  castle  being  ta'en  down  when  my  grandfather 
took  a  wadset  on't  frae  the  public,  we  are  obligated 
to  live  here  in  this  house  that  was  on  the  land 
when  I  made  a  conquest  o't  again,  yet  a'  gangs 
noo  by  the  ancient  name  o'  Kittlestonheugh,  and  a 
dochter  of  the  Walkinshaws  o'  the  same  is  a  match 
for  the  best  laird  in  the  shire,  though  she  hadna 
ither  tocher  than  her  snood  and  cockernony." 

"Weel,  Kittlestonheugh,"  replied  Dirdum- 
whamle, "  I'll  e'en  mak  it  better  than  the  twa 
hunder  and  fifty.  I'll  mak  it  whole  three  hunder, 
if  ye'll  get  a  paction  o'  consent  and  conneevance 
wi'  your  auld  son  Charles  to  pay  to  Miss  Meg,  or 
to  the  offspring  o'  my  marriage  wi'  her,  a  yearly 
soom  during  his  liferent  in  the  property,  you 
*  Scricds.     Drinking  bouts.  ^  Pendicle.     Pendant. 


youi 

gOO( 

libel 
C 


any 


THE  ENTAIL 


201 


yoursel'  undertaking  in  your  lifetime  to  be  as 
good.  I'm  sure  that's  baith  fair  and  a  very  great 
liberality  on  my  side." 

Claud  received  this  proposal  with  a  convulsive 
gurgle  of  the  heart's  blood.  It  seemed  to  him 
that,  on  every  occasion,  the  wrong  which  he  had 
done  Charles  was  to  be  brought  in  the  most 
o-ffensive  form  before  him,  and  he  sat  for  the 
space  of  two  or  three  minutes  without  making 
any  reply.     At  last  he  said — 

"  Mr  Milrookit,  I  ne'er  rued  anything  in  my 
life  but  the  consequence  of  twa-three  het  words 
that  ance  passed  between  me  and  my  gudefather 
Plealands  anent  our  properties ;  and  I  hae  lived 
to  repent  my  obduracy.  For  this  cause  I'll  say 
nae  mair  about  an  augmentation  of  the  proposed 
jointure,  but  just  get  my  dochter  to  put  up  wi'  the 
two  hundred  pounds,  hoping  that  hereafter,  an'  ye 
can  mak  it  better,  she'll  be  none  the  waur  of  her 
father's  confidence  in  you  on  this  occasion." 

Thus  was  Miss  Meg  disposed  of,  and  thus  did 
the  act  of  injustice  which  was  done  to  one  child 
operate,  through  the  mazy  feelings  of  the  father's 
conscious  spirit,  to  deter  him,  even  in  the  midst 
of  such  sordid  bargaining,  not  only  from  ventur- 
ing to  insist  on  his  own  terms,  but  even  from 
entertaining  a  proposal  which  had  for  its  object 
a  much  more  liberal  provision  for  his  daughter 
than  he  had  any  reason,  under  all  the  circum* 
stances,  to  expect. 


CHAPTER    XXXIII 

feOON  after  the  marriage  of  Miss  Meg,  George, 
the  third  son,  and  youngest  of  the  family,  was 
placed  in  the  counting-house  of  one  of  the  most 
eminent  West  Indian  merchants  at  that  period 
in  Glasgow.  This  incident  was  in  no  other 
respect  important  in  the  history  of  the  lairds  of 
Grippy  than  as  serving  to  open  a  career  to  George 
that  would  lead  him  into  a  higher  class  of  ac- 
quaintance than  his  elder  brothers  ;  for  it  was 
about  this  time  that  the  general  merchants  of 
the  royal  city  began  to  arrogate  to  themselves 
that  aristocratic  superiority  over  the  shopkeepers 
w^hich  they  have  since  established  into  an  oli- 
garchy as  proud  and  sacred,  in  what  respects  the 
reciprocities  of  society,  as  the  famous  seigniories 
of  Venice  and  of  Genoa. 

In  the  character  of  George,  however,  there 
was  nothing  ostensibly  haughty,  or,  rather,  his 
pride  had  not  shown  itself  in  any  strong  colour 
when  he  first  entered  on  his  mercantile  career. 
Like  his  father,  he  was  firm  and  persevering ; 
but  he  wanted  something  of  the  old  man's 
shrewdness,    and    there  was   more    of  avarice  in 

202 


THE  ENTAIL 


'20:; 


le  career. 


varice   m 


his  hopes  of  wealth  than  in  tlie  sordidness  of 
his  father,  for  they  were  not  elevated  by  any 
such  ambitious  sentiment  as  that  which  prompted 
Claud  to  strive  with  such  constancy  for  the  re- 
covery of  his  paternal  inheritance.  In  fact,  the 
young  merchant,  notwithstanding  the  superiority 
of  liis  education  and  other  advantages,  (we  may 
safely  venture  to  assert),  was  a  more  vulgar  char- 
acter than  the  old  pedlar.  But  his  peculiarities 
did  not  manifest  themselves  till  long  after  the 
period  of  which  we  are  now  speaking. 

In  the  meantime,  everything  proceeded  with 
the  family  much  in  the  same  manner  as  with 
most  others.  Claud  and  his  wife  had  daily  alter- 
cations a])out  their  household  affairs.  Charles 
and  Isabella  narrowed,  themselves  into  a  small 
sphere,  of  Avhich  his  grandmother,  the  venerable 
Lady  Plealands,  now  above  fourscore,  was  their 
principal  associate;  and  their  mutual  affection 
was  strengthened  by  the  birth  of  a  son.  Walter 
and  Betty  Bodle  resided  at  the  Divethill  ;  and 
they,  too,  had  the  prospect  of  adding,  as  a 
Malthusian  would  say,  to  the  mass  of  suffering 
mankind.  The  philosophical  Kihnarkeckle  con- 
tinued as  successfully  as  ever  his  abstruse  re- 
searches into  the  affinities  between  snuff  and 
the  natures  of  beasts  and  birds  ;  while  the  laird 
of  Dirdumwhamle  and  his  leddy  struggled  on 
in  the  yoke  together,  as  well  as  a  father  and 
stepmother,  amidst  fifteen  children,  the  progeny 
of  two  j)rior  marriages,  could  reasonably  be   ex- 


i204 


THE  ENTAIL 


pected  to  do,  where  neither  party  was  parti- 
cularly gifted  with  delicacy  or  forbeararce.  In 
a  word,  they  all  moved  along  with  the  rest  of 
the  world,  during  the  first  twelve  months  after 
the  execution  of  the  deed  of  entail,  without  ex- 
periencing any  other  particular  change  in  their 
relative  situations  than  those  to  which  we  have 
alluded. 

But  the  epoch  was  now  drawing  near  when 
Mrs  Walter  Walkinshaw  was  required  to  prepare 
herself  for  becoming  a  mother,  and  her  husband 
was  no  less  interested  than  herself  in  the  event. 
He  did  nothing  for  several  months,  from  morning 
to  night,  but  inquire  how  she  felt  herself,  and 
contrive,  in  his  affectionate  simplicity,  a  thousand 
insufferable  annoyances  to  one  of  her  disposition, 
for  the  purpose  of  affording  her  ease  and  pleasure  : 
all  of  which  were  answered  by  either  a  laugh  or 
a  slap,  as  the  humour  of  the  moment  dictated. 
Sometimes,  when  she,  regardless  of  her  maternal 
state,  would  in  walking  to  Grippy  or  Kilmarkeckle 
take  short  cuts  across  the  fields,  and  over  ditches, 
and  through  hedges,  he  would  anxiously  follow 
her  at  a  distance,  and  when  he  saw  her  in  any 
difficulty  to  pass,  run  kindly  to  her  assistance. 
More  than  once,  at  her  jocular  suggestion,  he 
has  lain  down  in  the  diy  ditches  to  allow  her 
to  step  across  on  his  back.  Never  had  wife 
a  more  loving  or  obedient  husband.  She  was 
allowed  in  everything,  not  only  to  j)lease  her- 
self, but  to  make  him  do  whatever  she  })leased ; 


THE  ENTAIL 


205 


and  yet,  with  all  her  whims  and  caprice,  she 
proved  so  true  and  so  worthy  a  wife  that  he 
grew  every  day  more  and  more  uxorious. 

Nor  was  his  mother  less  satisfied  with  Betty 
Bodle.  They  enjoyed  together  the  most  intimate 
communion  of  minds  on  all  topics  of  household 
economy ;  but  it  was  somewhat  surprising  that, 
notwithstanding  the  care  and  pains  which  the 
old  leddy  took  to  instruct  her  daughter-in-law  in 
all  the  mysteries  of  the  churn  and  cheese-set,  Mrs 
Walter's  butter  was  seldom  fit  for  market,  and 
the  huxters  of  the  royal  city  never  gave  her  near 
so  good  a  price  for  her  cheese  as  Lc  'My  Grippy 
regularly  received  for  hers,  although,  in  the 
process  of  the  m  '  '  g,  they  both  followed  the 
same  recipes. 

The  conjugal  felicities  of  Walter  afforded,  how- 
ever, but  little  pleasure  to  his  father.  The  ob- 
streperous humours  of  his  daughter-in-law  jarred 
with  his  sedate  dispositions,  and  in  her  fun  and 
freaks  she  so  loudly  showed  her  thorough  know- 
ledge of  her  husband's  defective  intellects  that  it 
for  ever  reminded  him  of  the  probable  indignation 
with  which  the  world  would  one  day  hear  of  the 
injustice  he  had  done  to  Charles.  The  effect  of 
this  gradually  led  him  to  shun  the  society  of  his 
own  family,  and  having  neither  from  nature  nor 
from  habit  any  inclination  for  general  company,  he 
became  solitary  and  morose.  He  visited  Glasgow 
once  a  week  only,  on  Wednesday,  and  generally 
sat  about  an  hour  in  the  shop,  in  his  old  elbow- 


206 


THE  ENTAIL 


chair,  in  the  corner ;  and,  saving  a  few  questions 
relative  to  the  business,  he  abstained  frc  con- 
versing with  liis  son.  It  would  seem,  however, 
that  under  this  sullen  taciturnity  the  love  which 
he  had  once  cherished  for  Charles  still  tugged  at 
his  heart ;  for,  happening  to  come  into  the  shop 
on  the  morning  after  Isabella  had  made  him  a 
grandfather  by  the  birth  of  a  boy,  he,  on  being 
informed  of  that  happy  event,  shook  his  son 
warmly  by  the  hand,  and  said,  in  a  serious  and 
impressive  manner, — 

'^An'  it  please  God,  Charlie,  to  gie  thee  ony 
mair  childer,  I  redde  thee,  wi'  the  counsel  o'  a 
father,  to  mak  nae  odds  among  them,  but  re- 
member they  are  a'  alike  thine,  and  that  t'ou 
canna  prefer  ane  aboon  anither  without  sin ;  " — 
and  he  followed  this  admonition  with  a  gift  of 
twenty  pounds  to  buy  the  infant  a  christening 
froci^i. 

But  from  that  day  he  never  spoke  to  Charles 
of  his  family ;  on  the  contrary,  he  became  dark 
and  more  obdurate  in  his  manner  to  every  one 
around  him.  His  only  enjoyment  seemed  to  be 
a  sort  of  doting  delight  in  contemplating,  from 
a  rude  bench  which  he  had  constructed  on  a 
rising  ground  behind  the  house  o'  Grippy,  the 
surrounding  fields  of  his  forefathers.  There  he 
would  sit  for  hours  together  alone,  bending  for- 
ward with  his  chin  resting  on  the  ivory  head  of 
his  staff,  which  he  held  between  his  knees  by 
])oth  hands,  and  with  a  quick  and  eager  glance 


THE  ENTAIL 


i>07 


survey  the  scene  for  a  moment,  and  then  drop 
his  eyelids  and  look  only  on  the  "round. 

Whatever  might  be  the  general  tenor  of  his 
reflections  as  he  sat  on  that  spot,  evidently  they 
were  not  always  pleasant ;  for  one  afternoon,  as 
he  was  sitting  there,  his  wife,  who  came  upon 
him  suddenly  and  unperceived,  to  tell  him  a 
messenger  was  sent  to  Glasgow  from  r3ivethill 
for  the  midwife,  was  surprised  to  find  him  agi- 
tated and  almost  in  tears. 

"Dear  me,  gudeman,"  said  she,  "what's  come 
ouer  you,  that  ye're  sitting  here  hanging  your 
gruntel  ^  like  a  sow  playing  on  a  trump  ?  Haena 
ye  heard  that  Betty  Bodle's  time's  come  ?  I'm 
gaun  ouer  to  the  crying,  and  if  ye  like  ye 
may  walk  that  length  wi'  me.  I  hope,  poor 
thing,  she'll  hae  an  easy  time  o't,  and  that 
we'll  hae  blithes-meat  -  before  the  sun  gangs 
doun." 

"  Gang  the  gait  thysel',  Girzy  Hypel,"  said 
Claud,  raising  his  head,  "and  no  fash  me  with 
thy  clishmaclavers." 

"  Hech,  gudeman !  but  ye  hae  been  eating 
sourrocks  instead  o*  lang-kail.  But  e'en's  ye 
like,  Meg  Dorts,  as  Patic  and  Roger  says,  I  can 
gang  mysel* ; "  and  with  that,  whisking  pettishly 
round,  she  walked  away. 

Claud,  being  thus  disturbed  in  his  meditations, 
looked  after  her  as  she  moved  along  the  footpath 

1  (■rrmtel.     Snout. 

"  Bliihta-miat.     Meat  distributed  at  the  Tirth  of  the  child. 


208 


THE  ENTAIL 


down  the  slope,  and  for  the  space  of  a  minute 
or  two  appeared  inclined  to  foHow  her;  but  re- 
lapsing into  some  new  train  of  thought,  before 
she  had  reached  the  bottom  he  had  again  re- 
sumed his  common  attitude,  and  replaced  his 
chin  on  the  ivory  head  of  his  staff. 


CHAPTER   XXXIV 


X  HERE  are  times  in  life  when  every  man  feels 
as  if  his  sympathies  were  extinct.  This  arises 
from  various  causes  :  sometimes  from  vicissitudes 
of  fortune ;  sometimes  from  the  sense  of  ingrati- 
tude, which,  like  the  canker  in  the  rose,  destroys 
the  germ  of  all  kindness  and  charity ;  often  from 
disappointments  in  affairs  of  the  heart,  which 
leave  it  incapable  of  ever  again  loving  ;  but  the 
most  common  cause  is  the  consciousness  of  having 
committed  wrong,  when  the  feelings  recoil  inward, 
and,  by  some  curious  mystery  in  the  nature  of 
our  selfishness,  instead  of  prompting  atonement, 
irritate  us  to  repeat  and  to  persevere  in  our 
injustice. 

Into  one  of  these  temporary  trances  Claud  had 
fallen  when  his  wife  left  him ;  and  he  con,tinued 
sitting,  with  his  eyes  riveted  on  the  ground, 
insensible  to  all  the  actual  state  of  life,  contem- 
plating the  circumstances  and  condition  of  his 
children  as  if  he  had  no  interest  in  their  fate,  nor 
could  be  affected  by  anything  in  their  fortunes. 

In  this  fit  of  apathy  and  abstraction,  he  was 
roused  by  the  sound  of  some  one  approaching; 


VOL.   I. 


209 


O 


210 


THE  ENTAIL 


^11! 


and  OH  I()okin<^  u]),  and  turii;:i_ir  his  eyes  to- 
wards the  path  which  led  from  the  house  to 
the  bench  M'here  he  was  then  sitting,  he  saw 
Walter  coming. 

There  was  something  unwonted  in  the  appear- 
ance and  gestures  of  Walter  which  soon  interested 
the  old  man.  At  one  moment  he  rushed  forward 
several  steps,  wiLh  a  strange  wildness  of  air.  He 
woidd  then  stoji  and  wring  his  hands,  gaze  up- 
ward, as  if  he  wondered  at  some  extraordinary 
phenomenon  in  the  sky;  but  seeing  nothing,  he 
dro})pcd  his  hands,  and,  at  his  ordinary  pace, 
came  slowly  up  tlie  hill. 

When  he  arrived  within  a  few  paces  of  the 
bench  he  halted,  and  looked  with  such  an  open 
and  innocent  sadness  that  even  the  heart  of  his 
father,  which  so  shortly  before  was  as  inert  to 
humanity  as  case-hardened  iron,  throbbed  with 
pity,  and  was  melted  to  a  degree  of  softness 
and  compassion  almost  entirely  new  to  its  sen- 
sibilities. 

'^ What's  the  matter  wi'  thee,  Watty.''"  said 
he  with  unusual  kindliness. 

The  poor  natural,  however,  made  no  reply,  but 
continued  to  gaze  at  him  with  the  same  inex- 
pressible simplicity  of  grief. 

"  Hast  t'ou  lost  ony thing,  Watty  }  " 

"  I  dinna  ken,"  was  the  answer,  followed  by  a 
burst  of  tears. 

'■'Surely  something  dreadfu'  has  befallen  the 
lad,"    said    Claud    to    himself,    alarmed    at    the 


s  eyes  to- 
;  house  to 
ig,   he   s«'iw 


:he  appear- 
i  interested 
led  forward 
of  air.  He 
s,  gaze  up- 
:traordinary 
lothing,  he 
inary   pace, 

ices  of  tlie 
ch  an  open 
lieart  of  his 
as  inert  to 
bbed  with 
of  softness 
to  its  sen- 

itty  ?  "   said 

reply,  but 
isame  inex- 


lowed  by  a 

^fallen  the 
id    at    the 


THE  ENTAIL 


211 


astonishment  of  sorrow  with  which  his  faculties 
seemed   to  be  ])ound  up. 

"(van  t'ou  no  tell  me  what  has  happened, 
Watty  ?  " 

In  about  the  space  of  half  a  minute  Walter 
moved  his  eyes  slowly  round,  as  if  he  saw  and 
followed  something  which  filled  him  with  a^/e  and 
dread.  He  then  suddenly  checked  himself,  and 
said,  "It's  naething — she's  no  there." 

"Sit  down  beside  me,  Watty/'  exclaimed  his 
father,  alarmed  ;  "  sit  down  beside  me,  and  com- 
pose thysel'." 

Walter  did  as  he  was  bidden,  and  stretching 
out  his  feet,  hung  forward  in  such  a  posture  of  ex- 
treme listlessness  and  helpless  despondency  that 
all  power  of  action  appeared  to  be  withdrawn. 

Claud  rose,  and  believing  he  was  only  under  the 
influence  of  some  of  those  silly  passions  to  which 
he  was  occasionr.lly  subject,  moved  to  go  away, 
when  he  looked  up,  and  said — 

"  Father,  Betty  Bodle's  dead  !  My  Betty  Bodle's 
dead ! " 

"  Dead  !  "  said  Claud,  thunderstruck. 

"  Ay,  father,  she's  dead  !  My  Betty  Bodle's 
dead  ! " 

"  Dost  t'ou  ken  what  t'ou's  sayiiig  }  " 

But  W^alter,  without  attending  to  the  question, 
repeated,  with  an  accent  of  tenderness  still  more 
simple  and  touching, — 

"  My  Betty  Bodle's  dead  !  She's  awa'  up  aboon 
the  skies  yon'er,  and  left  me  a  wee  wee  baby ; " 


212 


THE  ENTAIL 


in  saying  which  he  a^faiii  burst  into  tears,  and 
rising  hastily  from  the  beneh,  ran  wildly  back 
towards  the  Divethill  House,  whither  he  was 
followed  by  the  old  man,  where  the  disastrous 
intelligence  was  conHrmed  that  she  had  died  in 
giving  birth  to  a  daughter. 

Deep  and  secret  as  Claud  kept  his  feelings  from 
the  eyes  of  the  world,  this  was  a  misfortune  which 
he  was  ill  prepared  to  withstand  ;  for  although  in 
the  first  shock  he  betrayed  no  emotion,  it  was 
soon  evident  that  it  had  shattered  some  of  the 
firmest  intents  and  purposes  of  his  mind.  That 
he  regretted  the  premature  death  of  a  beautiful 
young  woman  in  such  interesting  circumstances 
was  natural  to  him  as  a  man  ;  but  he  felt  the 
event  more  as  a  personal  disappointment,  and 
thought  it  was  accompanied  with  something  so 
like  retribution  that  he  inwardly  trembled  as  if 
he  had  been  chastised  by  some  visible  arm  of 
Providence.  For  he  could  not  disguise  to  himself 
that  a  female  heir  was  a  contingency  he  had 
not  contemplated  :  that,  by  the  catastrophe  which 
had  happened  to  the  mother,  the  excambio  of  the 
Plealands  for  the  Divethill  would  be  rendered  of 
no  avail ;  and  that,  unless  Walter  married  again, 
and  had  a  son,  the  reunited  Kittlestonheugh  pro- 
perty must  again  be  disjoined,  as  the  Divethill 
would  necessarily  become  the  inheritance  of  the 
daughter. 

The  vexation  of  this  was  alleviated,  however, 
when  he  reflected  on  the  pliancy  of  Walter's  char- 


TIIK   ENTAIL 


^2\3 


ac'tcr  ;  aiul  lie  comforted  liiins(^lf  with  the  idea 
that,  as  soon  as  a  reasonahK;  sacrifiee  of  time 
liad  been  made  to  decorum,  he  wouhl  he  ahle  to 
induce  the  natural  to  m.irry  a<^ain.  Shall  we  ven- 
ture to  say  it  also  occurred  in  the  co<ritations  of 
his  sordid  ambition  that,  as  the  infant  was  ])re- 
niaturely  boni,  and  was  feeble  and  infirm,  he 
entertained  some  hope  it  mi^ht  die,  and  not  in- 
terfere with  the  entailed  destination  of  the  general 
estate  ?  But  if,  in  hazardin<r  this  harsh  supposi- 
tion, we  do  him  any  injustice,  it  is  certain  that  he 
began  to  think  there  was  something  in  the  current 
of  human  affairs  over  which  he  could  acquire  no 
control ;  and  that,  although  in  pursuing  so  steadily 
the  single  purpose  of  recovering  his  family  in- 
heritance, his  endeavours  had,  till  this  period, 
])roved  eminently  successful,  he  yet  saw  with 
dismay  that,  from  t'le  moment  other  interests 
came  to  be  blended  with  those  which  he  con- 
sidered so  peculiarly  his  own,  other  causes  also 
came  into  operation,  and  turned,  in  spite  of  all 
his  hedging  and  prudence,  the  whole  issue  of  his 
labours  awry.  He  perceived  that  human  power 
was  set  at  naught  by  the  natural  course  of  things  ; 
and  nothing  produced  a  more  painful  conviction 
of  the  wrong  he  had  committed  against  his  first- 
born than  the  frustration  of  his  wishes  by  the 
misfortune  which  had  befallen  Walter.  His 
reflections  were  embittered  also  from  another 
source  :  by  his  jjarsimony  he  foresaw  that,  in  the 
course  of  a  few  years,  he  would  have  been  able. 


^14 


THE  ENTAIL 


from  his  own  funds,  to  have  redeemed  the  Divet- 
liill  without  having  had  recourse  to  the  excambio, 
and  that  the  whole  of  the  Kittlestonheugh  miglit 
thus  have  been  his  own  conquest,  and,  as  sueli, 
without  violating  aii)'^  of  the  usages  of  society,  he 
might  have  commenced  the  entail  with  Charles. 
In  a  word,  the  death  of  Walter's  wife  and  the 
birth  of  the  daughter  disturbed  all  his  schemes, 
and  re.'t  from  roof  to  foundation  the  castles  which 
he  had  been  so  Icng  and  so  arduously  building. 

But  it  is  necessary  that  we  should  return  to 
poor  Walter,  on  whom  the  loss  of  his  beloved 
Betty  Bodle  acted  with  the  incitement  of  a  new 
impulse,  and  produced  a  change  of  character  that 
rendered  him  a  far  less  tractable  instrument  than 
his  father  expected  to  find. 


sion 


CHAPTER   XXXV 


_L  HE  sorrow  of  Walter,  after  he  had  returned 
home,  assumed  the  appearance  of  a  cahn  and 
settled  melancholy.  He  sat  beside  the  corpse 
with  his  hands  folded  and  his  head  drooping'. 
He  made  no  answer  to  any  question  ;  but  as  often 
as  he  heard  the  infant's  cry  he  looked  towards 
the  bed,  and  said,  with  an  accent  of  indescribable 
sadness,  "  My  Betty  Bodle  !  " 

When  the  coffin  arrived,  his  mother  wished 
him  to  leave  the  room,  apprehensive,  from  the 
profound  grief  in  which  he  was  plunged,  that  he 
might  break  out  into  some  extravagance  of  pas- 
sion ;  but  he  refused,  and,  when  it  was  brought 
in,  he  assisted  with  singular  tranquillity  in  the 
ceremonial  of  the  coffining.  But  when  the  lid 
was  lifted  and  placed  over  the  body,  and  the 
carpenter  was  preparing  to  fasten  it  down  for 
ever,  he  shuddered  for  a  moment  from  head  to 
foot ;  and,  raising  it  with  his  left  hand,  he  took 
a  last  look  of  the  face,  removing  the  veil  with  his 
right,  and  touching  the  sunken  cheek  as  if  he 
had  hoped  still  to  feel  some  ember  of  life :  but  it 
was  cold  and  stiff. 

215 


216 


THE  ENTAIL 


tc 


She's  C'l;iy  noo,"  said  he.      "There's  ruiiie  o' 
my  Betty  Bodle  here." 

And  he  turned  away  with  a  careless  air,  as  if  lie 
had  no  further  interest  in  the  scene.  From  that 
moment  his  artless  affections  took  another  direc- 
tion ;  immediately  he  quitted  the  death-room, 
and  going  to  the  nursery  where  the  infant  lay 
asleep  in  the  nurse's  lap,  contemplated  it  for 
some  time,  and  then,  with  a  cheerful  and  happy 
look  and  tone,  said — "  It's  a  wee  Betty  Bodle ; 
and  it's  my  Betty  Bodle  noo."  And  all  liis  time 
and  thoughts  thenceforth  were  devoted  to  this 
darling  object,  insomuch  that  when  the  hour  of 
the  funeral  was  near,  and  he  was  requested  to 
dress  himself  to  perform  the  husband's  customary 
part  in  the  solemnity,  he  refused,  not  only  to  quit 
the  child,  but  to  have  anything  to  do  with  the 
burial. 

"I  canna  understand,"  said  he,  "what  for  a' 
this  fykerie's  about  a  lump  o'  vird  }  Sho'elt  intil 
a  hole,  and  no  fash  me."  ^ 

"  It's  your  wife,  my  lad,"  replied  his  mother ; 
"ye'll  surely  never  refuse  to  carry  her  head  in  a 
gudeman-like  manner  to  the  kirkyard." 

"  Na,  na,  mother :  Betty  Bodle's  my  wife  :  yon 
clod  in  the  black  kist  is  but  her  auld  boddice ; 
and  when  she  flang't  off,  she  put  on  this  bonny 
wee  new  cleiding  o'  clay,"  said  he,  pointing  to 
the  baby. 

The  leddy,   after  some    further  remonstrance, 
1  A  lump  of  earth.     Shovel  it  .  .  .  and  don't  trouble  me. 


THE  ENTAIL 


217 


jre  s  naiie  o 


liis  mother; 
r  head  in  a 


was  (lisooncertcd  by  the  pertinacity  with  wlVh 
lie  continued  to  adhere  to  iiis  resolution,  and 
went  to  beg  her  husband  to  interfere. 

'^Ye'll  hae  to  gang  ben,  gudeman,"  said  she, 
^'and  speak  to  Watty.  I  wish  the  poor  thing 
hasna  gane  by  itsel'  wi'  a  broken  heart.  He 
threeps  ^  that  the  body  is  no  his  wife's,  and  ca's 
it  a  hateral  ^  o'  clay  and  stones,  and  says  we  may 
fling't — Gude  guide  us  ! — ayont  the  midden  for 
him.  We'll  just  be  affrontit  if  he'll  no  carry  the 
head." 

Claud,  who  had  dressed  himself  in  the  morning 
for  the  funeral,  was  sitting  in  the  elbow-chair, 
on  the  right  side  of  the  chimney-place,  with  his 
cheek  resting  on  his  hand  and  his  eyelids 
dropped,  but  not  entirely  shut ;  and,  on  being 
thus  addressed,  he  instantly  rose  and  went  to 
the  nursery. 

''  What's  t'ou  doing  there  like  a  hussy  fellow  }  " 
said  he.  "  Rise  and  get  on  thy  mournings,  and 
behave  wiselike,  and  leave  the  bairn  to  the 
women." 

"  It's  my  bairn,"  replied  Watty,  "  and  ye  hae 
naething,  father,  to  do  wi't.  Will  I  no  tak  care 
o'  my  ain  baby — my  bonny  wee  Betty  Bodle  }  " 

"Do  as  I  bid  thee,  or  I'll  maybe  gar  thee  fin 
the  weight  o'  my  staff,"  cried  the  old  man  sharply, 
expecting  immediate  obedience  to  his  commands, 
such  as  he  always  found,  however  positively  Walter, 


1  Threeps. 

2  Hatei'al. 


Keeps  insisting. 
A  confused  heap. 


218 


THE  ENTAIL 


on  other  occasions,  at  first  refused.  But  in  this 
instance  he  was  disappointed ;  for  the  widower 
looked  him  steadily  in  the  face,  and  said  — 

"I'm  a  father  noo ;  it  would  be  an  awfu'  thing 
for  a  decent  grey-headed  man  like  you,  father,  to 
strike  the  head  o'  a  motherless  family." 

Claud  was  so  strangely  affected  by  the  look 
and  accent  with  which  this  was  expressed  that 
he  stood  for  some  time  at  a  loss  what  to  sav  ;  but 
soon  recovering  his  self-possession,  he  replied,  in 
a  mild  and  persuasive  manner,— 

'^The  frien's  expeck,  Watty,  that  ye'U  attend 
the  burial,  and  carry  the  head,  as  the  use  and 
wont  is  in  every  weel-doing  family." 

*'  It's  a  thriftless  custom,  father ;  and  what 
care  I  for  burial-bread  and  services  o*  wine }  i 
They  cost  siller,  father,  and  I'll  no  wrang  Betty 
Bodle  for  ony  sic  outlay  on  her  auld  yirdcn  gar- 
ment. Ye  may  gang,  for  fashion's  cause,  wi'  your 
weepers  and  your  mourning-strings,  and  lay  the 
black  kist  i'  tlie  kirkyard  hole  ;  but  I'll  no  mudge 
the  ba'  o'  my  muckle  tae  in  ony  sic  road." 

''T'ou's  past  remede,  I  fear,"  replied  his  father 
thoughtfully ;  "  but,  Watty,  I  liope  in  this  t'ou'll 
oblige  thy  mother  and  me,  and  put  on  thy  new 
black  claes — t'ou  ken's  they're  in  a  braw  fashion 
— and  come  ben  and  receive  the  guests  in  a  douce 
and  sober  manner.  The  minister,  I'm  thinking, 
will  soon  be  here,  and  t'ou  should  be  in  the  way 
when  he  comes." 

1  Soo  Note  A,  Anncds  of  the  Parish. 


t( 


(( 


THE  ENTAIL 


UW 


"So,"  said  Watty,  "no;  do  as  ye  like,  and 
come  wha  may,  it's  a'  ane  to  me  :   I'm  jiositceve." 

The  old  man,  losing  all  self-command  at  this 
extraordinary  opposition,  exclaimed — 

"There's  a  judgment  in  this;  and  if  there's 
power  in  the  law  o'  Scotland  I'll  gar  thee  rue 
sic  dourness.  Get  up,  I  say,  and  put  on  thy 
mournings,  or  I'll  hae  thee  cognost  and  sent 
to  bedlam  ! " 

"  I'm  sure  I  look  for  nae  mair  at  your  hands, 
father,"  replied  Walter  simply;  "for  my  mither 
has  often  tel't  me,  when  ye  hae  been  sitting 
sour  and  sulky  in  the  nook,  that  ye  wouldna  be- 
grudge crowns  and  pounds  to  mak  me  compos 
mentis  for  the  benefit  of  Charlie." 

Every  pulse  in  the  veins  of  Claud  stood  still 
at  this  stroke,  and  he  staggered,  overwhelmed 
with  shame,  remorse,  and  indignation,  into  a  seat. 

"Eh  !  "  said  the  leddy,  returning  into  the  room 
at  this  juncture,  ''what's  come  ouer  you,  gude- 
man  ?     Pity  me,  will  he  no  do  your  bidding  ?  " 

"Girzy  Hypel,"  was  the  hoarse  and  emphatic 
reply,  "Girzy  Hypel,  t'ou's  the  curse  o'  my  life. 
The  folly  in  thee  has  altered  to  idiotical  de- 
})ravity  in  him ;  and  the  wrong  I  did  against 
iny  ain  nature  in  marrying  thee,  I  maun  iioo,  in 
my  auld  age,  reap  the  fruits  o'  in  sorrow,  and 
shame,  and  sin." 

"  Here's  composity  for  a  burial !  "  exclaimed  the 
leddy.    "  What's  the  matter,  Watty  Walkinshaw  .'^ " 


(( 


My  father's  in  a  passion." 


^  /^  v/ 


THE  ENTAIL 


Claud  starccd  from  his  seat,  and,  with  fury  in 
liis  eyes  and  his  liands  clenched,  rushed  across 
the  room  towards  the  spot  where  Walter  was 
sitting,  watching  the  infant  in  the  nurse's  laj). 
In  the  same  moment  the  affectionate  natural 
also  sprang  forward  and  placed  himself  in  an 
attitude  to  protect  the  child.  The  fierce  old 
man  was  confounded,  and,  turning  round  hastily, 
(juitted  the  room  wringing  his  hands,  unable  any 
longer  to  master  the  conflicting  feelings  which 
warred  so  wildly  in  his  bosom. 

"^This  is  a  pretty-like  house  o'  mourning," 
said  the  leddy  :  "  a  father  and  a  son  fighting, 
and  a  dead  body  Avaiting  to  be  ta'en  to  the  kirk- 
yard.  O  Watty  Walkinshaw  !  Watty  Walkinshaw  ! 
Many  a  sore  heart  ye  hae  gien  your  parents. 
Will  ye  ne'er  divaul  ^  till  ye  hae  brought  our  grey 
haixs  wi'  sorrow  to  the  grave }  There's  your 
poor  father  flown  demented,  and  a*  the  comfort 
in  his  cup  and  mine  gane  like  water  spilt  on  the 
ground.  Many  a  happy  day  we  hae  had  till  this 
condumacity  o'  thine  grew  to  sic  a  head.  But 
tak  your  ain  way  o't.  Do  as  ye  like.  Let 
strangers  carry  your  wife  to  the  kirkyard,  and 
see  what  ye'll  mak  o't." 

Notwithstanding  all  these  arguments  and  many 
more  equally  persuasive  and  commanding,  W^alter 
was  not  to  be  moved,  and  the  funeral,  in  conse- 
quence, was  obliged  to  be  performed  without  him. 
Yet  still,  though  thus  tortured  in  his  feelings,  the 

^  Divaul.     Cease. 


>5 


THE  ENTAIL 


221 


stem  old  man  inflexibly  adhered  to  his  purpose. 
The  entail  which  he  had  executed  was  still  with 
him  held  irrevocable;  and,  indeed,  it  had  been 
so  framed  that,  unless  he  rendered  himself  in- 
solvent, it  could  not  be  set  aside. 


CHAPTER    XXXVI 


J.^  OR  some  time  after  the  funeral  of  Mrs  Walter 
Walkinshaw  the  affairs  of  the  Grippy  family  ran 
in  a  strai<;ht  and  even  current.  The  estrangement 
of  the  old  man  from  his  first-born  suffered  no 
describable  increase  ;  but  Charles  felt  that  it  was 
increasing.  The  old  leddy,  in  the  meanwhile,  had 
a  world  of  cares  upon  her  hands  in  breaking  up  the 
establishment  which  had  been  formed  for  Walter 
at  the  house  on  the  Divethill,  and  in  removing 
him  back  with  the  infant  and  the  nurse  to  Grippy  ; 
and  scarcely  had  she  accomplished  these  when  a 
letter  from  her  daughter,  Mrs  Milrookit,  informed 
her  that  the  preparations  for  an  addition  to  the 
'' sma' family  "  of  Dirdumwhamle  were  complete, 
and  that  she  hoped  her  mother  could  be  present 
on  the  occasion,  which  was  expected  to  come  to 
pass  in  the  course  of  a  few  weeks  from  that 
date. 

Nothing  was  more  congenial  to  the  mind  and 
habits  of  the  leddy  than  a  business  of  this  sort, 
or,  indeed,  any  epochal  domestic  event,  such 
as,  in  her  own  })hraseology,  was  entitled  to  the 
epithet   of   a    handling.      But    when    she    men- 

222 


THE  ENTAIL 


-■W  ow  1/ 


tioned  the   subject  to  her  husband  lie  objected, 
saying— 

^'  It's  no  possible,  Girzy,  for  ye  ken  Mr  and  Mrs 
(livan  are  to  be  here  next  week  with  their  dochter, 
Miss  Peg^y,  and  I  would  fain  hae  them  to  see  an 
onything  could  be  brought  to  a  head  between  he  r 
and  our  Geordie.  He's  noo  o'  a  time  o'  life  when 
I  would  like  he  were  settled  in  the  world ;  and 
amang  a'  our  frien's  there's  no  a  family  I  would 
be  mair  content  to  see  him  connected  wi'  than 
the  Givans,  who  are  come  o'  the  best  blood,  and 
are,  moreover,  o'  great  wealth  and  property." 

"  Weel,  if  e'er  there  was  the  like  o'  you,  gude- 
man,"  replied  the  leddy,  delighted  with  the  news  ; 
"an'  ye  were  to  set  your  mind  on  a  purpose  o' 
marriage  between  a  goose  and  a  grumphie,  I  dinna 
think  but  ye  would  make  it  a'  come  to  pass  ;  for 
wha  would  hae  thought  o'  this  plot  on  the  Givans, 
who,  to  be  sure,  are  a  most  creditable  family,  and 
Miss  Peggy,  their  dochter,  is  a  very  genty  creature, 
although  it's  my  notion  she's  no  o'  a  capacity  to 
do  muckle  in  the  way  o'  throughgality.  Hows- 
ever,  she's  a  bonny  playock,  and  noo  that  the 
stipend  ye  alloo't  to  Watty  is  at  an  end,  by  reason 
of  that  heavy  loss  which  we  all  met  wi'  in  his  wife, 
ye'll  can  weel  afford  to  help  Geordie  to  keep  her 
out  in  a  station  o'  life  :  for  times,  gudeman,  are 
no  noo  as  when  you  and  me  cam  thegither.  Then, 
a  bien  house  and  a  snod  but  and  ben  were  a' 
that  was  lookit  for ;  but  sin'  genteelity  came  into 
fashion,   lads  and  lasses  hae   grown  leddies  and 


oo.t 


THE  ENTAIL 


pjcntlemen,  and  a  Glasgow  wife  sallying  to  the 
kirk  wi'  her  iiiufFand  her  mantle  looks  as  puckered 
wi'  pride  as  my  lord's  leddy." 

Claud,  who  knew  W(;ll  that  his  helpmate  was 
.ible  to  continue  her  desul  iv  consultations  as  long 
as  she  could  keep  herself  awake,  here  endea- 
voured to  turn  the  speat  ^  of  her  clatter  into  a 
new  channel,  by  observing  that  hitherto  they  had 
not  enjoyed  any  great  degree  of  comfort  in  the 
marriages  of  their  family. 

''  Watty's,"  said  he,  "  ye  see,  has  in  a  manner 
been  waur  than  nane  ;  for  a'  we  hae  gotten  by't 
is  that  weakly  lassie  bairn  ;  and  the  sumph  -  him- 
sel*  is  sae  taen  up  wi't  that  he's  a  perfect  obduracy 
to  every  wish  o'  mine  that  he  would  tak  another 
wife  to  raise  a  male-heir  to  the  family." 

"  I'm  sure,"  replied  the  leddy,  "  it's  just  a  sport 
to  hear  you,  gudeman,  and  your  male  -  heirs. 
What  for  can  ye  no  be  content  wi'  Charlie's 
son  ? 

The  countenance  of  Grippy  was  instantaneously 
clouded ;  but  in  a  moment  the  gloom  passed,  and 
he  said — 

''  Girzy  Hypel,  t'ou  kens  naething  about  it. 
Willna  Watty's  dochter  inherit  the  Divethill  by 
right  o'  her  father,  for  the  Plealands,  and  so  rive 
the  heart  again  out  o'  the  Kittlestonheugh,  and 
mak  a'  my  ettling  fruitless  ?  Noo,  what  I  wish  is 
that  Geordie  should  tak  a  wife  to  himsel'  as  soon 
as  a  possibility  will  alloo  ;  and  if  he  has  a  son,  by 

1  Speat.     Full  flood.  2  Sumph.     Softy. 


THE  ENTAIL 


itv  "v  *9 


1  a  manner 


course  o'  nature,  it  mii:^ht  be  wised  ^  in  time  to 
marry  Watty's  doeliter,  and  so  to  keep  the  pro- 
perty frae  gan^in^  out  o'  the  family." 

"  Noo,  gudeman,  thole  wi'  me,  and  no  he  angry," 
rcj)lied  the  leddy,  *'  for  I  eanna  but  say  it's  a  thing 
past  ordinar  that  ye  never  seem  to  refleet  that 
Ciiarlie's  laddie  might  just  as  weel  be  wised  to 
marry  Watty's  doehter  as  ony  son  that  Geordie's 
like  to  get ;  and,  over  and  moreover,  the  wean's  in 
the  world  already,  gudeman,  but  a'  Geordie's  are 
as  trouts  in  the  water ;  so  I  redde  you  to  eonsider 
weel  what  ye're  doing,  and  gut  nae  fish  till  ye 
catch  them." 

During  this  speech  Claud's  face  was  again 
overcast ;  the  harsh  and  agonising  discord  of  his 
l)osom  rudely  jangled  through  all  the  depths  of 
his  conscience,  and  reminded  him  how  futile  his 
■wishes  and  devices  might  be  rendered  either  by 
the  failure  of  issue  or  by  the  birth  of  daughters. 
I'iVerything  seemed  arranged  by  Providence  to 
keep  the  afflicting  sense  of  the  wrong  he  had 
(lone  his  first-born  constantly  galled.  But  it  had 
not  before  occurred  to  him  that  even  a  marriage 
between  the  son  of  Charles  and  Walter's  daughter 
could  not  remedy  the  fault  he  had  committed. 
The  heirs-male  of  George  had  a  preference  in  the 
entail,  and  such  a  marriage  would  in  no  degree 
tend  to  prevent  the  Kittlestonheugh  from  being 
again  disjoined.  In  one  sentence,  the  ambitious  old 
man  was  miserable  ;  but,  rather  than  yet  consent 

1   Wised.     Induced. 
VOL.    I.  P 


t^.A 


22() 


THE  ENTAIL 


to  retrace  any  step  he  bad  taken,  he  persevered 
in  his  original  course,  as  if  tiie  (ire  ni  liis  heart 
could  be  subdued  by  addin*^  fresli  piles  of  the 
same  fuel.  The  match  which  he  had  formed 
for  C/eor^e  was  accordini^ly  brought  to  what  he 
deemed  a  favourable  issue  ;  for  (Jeorge,  possess- 
in<jf  but  little  innate  delicacy,  and  only  ea;j:er  to 
become  rich,  had  no  scruple  in  j)roposing  himself. 
at  his  father's  sufrgestion,  to  Miss  Peggy  Clivan  ; 
and  the  young  lady  being  entirely  under  the 
control  of  her  mother,  who  regarded  a  union 
with  her  relations,  the  Grippy  family,  as  one  of 
the  most  desirable,  peaceably  acquiesced  in  the 
arrangement. 

Prior,  however,  to  the  marriage  taking  place, 
Mr  Givan,  a  shrewd  and  worldly  man,  conceiv- 
ing that  (xeorge  was  a  younger  son,  his  elder 
brother  married,  and  Walter's  daughter  standing 
between  him  and  the  succession  to  the  estate, 
stipulated  that  the  bridegroom  should  be  settled 
as  a  principal  in  business.  A  short  delay  in  con- 
sequence occurred  between  the  arrangement  and 
the  solenmisation ;  but  the  difficulty  was  over- 
come by  the  old  man  advancing  nearly  I  he  whole 
of  his  ready  money  as  a  proportion  of  the  capital 
"which  was  required  by  the  house  that  received 
George  into  partnership.  Perhaps  he  might  have 
been  spared  this  sacrifice  (for  as  such  he  felt  it) 
could  he  have  brought  himself  to  divulge  to  Mr 
Givan  the  nature  of  the  entail  which  he  had  exe- 
cuted ;  bat  the  shame  of  that  transaction  had  by 


TIIR  ENTAIL 


oi)7 


this  time  sunk  so  dcfp  that  he  often  wislied  and 
tried  to  eonsider  tlie  deed  as  havin«r  no  existenee. 
Meanwhile  Mrs  Milrookit  liad  heeonie  tlie 
mother  of  a  son, — the  only  oecurrence  wliieh,  for 
some  time,  liad  t»iven  (land  any  unalloyed  satis- 
faetion.  But  it  also  was  soon  converted  into  a 
new  source  of  vexation  and  of  punishment ;  for 
Leddy  Grii)py,  ever  dotin^ly  fond  of  Walter, 
determined,  from  the  first  hour  in  which  she 
heard  of  tlie  birth  of  VValkinshaw  Milrookit  (as 
the  child  was  called),  to  mutch  him  with  her 
favourite's  Betty.  The  mere  possibility  of  such 
an  event  taking  j)lace  filled  her  husband  with 
anxiety  and  fear,  the  expressions  of  which,  with 
the  peevish  and  bitter  accents  that  he  used 
in  checking  her  loquacity  on  the  subject,  only 
served  to  make  her  wonderment  at  his  prejudices 
the  more  and  more  tormentinjr. 


CHAPTER    XXXVIl 

XN  the  meantime  Charles  and  Isabella  had  en- 
joyed a  large  share  of  domestic  felicity,  rendered 
the  more  endearingly  exquisite  by  their  parental 
anxiety ;  for  it  had  pleased  Heaven  to  at  once 

bless  and  burden  their  narrow  circumstances  with 
two  beautiful  cliildren,  James  and  Mary.     Their 

income  arising  from  the  share  which  the  old  man 
had  assigned  of  the  business  had,  during  the  first 
two  or  three  years  subsequent  to  their  marriage, 
proved  sufficient  for  the  supj  \v  of  their  restricted 
wants  ;  but  their  expenses  began  gradually  to  in- 
crease, and  about  the  end  of  the  third  year  Charles 
found  that  they  had  incurred  several  small  debts 
above  their  means  of  payment.  These,  in  the 
course  of  the  fourth,  rose  to  such  a  sum  that, 
being  naturally  of  an  apprehensive  mind,  he  grew 
uneasy  at  the  amount,  and  came  to  the  resolution 
to  borrow  two  hundred  jjounds  to  discharge  them. 
This,  he  imagined,  there  could  be  no  difficulty 
in  procuring ;  for,  believing  tliat  he  was  the  heir 
of  entail  to  the  main  part  of  the  estate  which  his 
fatlier  had  so  entirely  redeemed,  he  conceived 
that  he  might  raise  the  money  on  his  reversionary 

228 


THE  ENTAIL 


t^  ^^  ij 


prospects.  With  this  view,  he  called  one  morn- 
ing on  Mr  Keelevin,  to  recjuest  his  agency  in 
the  husiness. 

''  I'm  grieved,  man,"  said  the  honest  lawyer, 
''  to  hear  that  ye're  in  such  straits  ;  but  hadna  ye 
better  speak  to  your  father?  It  miglit  bring  on 
you  his  displeasure  if  he  heard  ye  were  borrow- 
ijig  money  to  be  paid  at  his  death.  It's  a  thing 
nae  Irien',  far  less  a  father,  would  like  done  by 
himsel'." 

''  In  truth,"  replied  Charles,  "  I  am  (juite 
sensible  of  that ;  but  what  can  I  do }  For  my 
father,  ever  since  mv  brother  Watty's  marriaije, 
has  been  so  cold  and  reserved  about  his  affairs  to 
me  that  everything  like  confidence  seems  as  if  it 
were  perished  from  between  us." 

Mr  Keelevin,  during  this  speech,  raised  his  left 
arm  on  the  elbow  from  the  table  at  which  he  was 
sitting,  and  rested  his  chin  on  his  hand.  There 
was  nothing  in  the  habitual  calm  of  his  counte- 
nance which  indicated  what  was  passing  in  his 
heart,  but  liis  eyes  once  or  twice  glimmered  with 
a  vivid  expression  of  pity. 

''  Mr  Vs'alkinshaw,"  said  he,  "if  you  dinna  like 
to  apply  to  your  father  yoursel',  couldna  some 
friend  mediate  for  you  .''     Let  me  speak  to  him." 

"It's  friendly  of  you,  Mr  Keelevin,  to  offer  to 
do  that ;  but  really,  to  speak  plainly,  I  would  far 
rather  borrow  the  money  from  a  stranger  than  lay 
myself  open  to  any  remarks.  Indeed,  for  myself, 
I  don't  much  care  ;  but  ye  ken  my  father's  narrow 


230 


THE  ENTAIL 


ideas  about  household  chart^es,  and  maybe  he 
mi<rht  take  it  on  him  to  make  remarks  to  my 
wife  that  I  wouldna  Hke  to  liear  o'." 

'^  But,  Mr  Charles,  you  know  that  money  canna 
be  borrowed  without  security." 

"  I  am  aware  of  that ;  and  it's  on  that  account 
I  want  your  assistance.  I  should  think  that  my 
chance  of  surviving  my  father  is  worth  some- 
thing." 

''  But  the  whole  estate  is  strictly  entaileci,  Mr 
Charles,"  replied  the  lawyer,  with  compassionate 
regard. 

'^  The  income,  however,  is  all  clear,  Mr 
Keelevi-n." 

^^  I  dinna  misdoubt  that,  Mr  Charles  •  but  the 
entail — do  you  ken  how  it  runs  ^  " 

"  No  ;  but  I  imagine  much  in  the  usual  manner." 

"No,  Mr  Charles,"  said  the  honest  writer, 
raising  his  head,  and  letting  his  hand  fall  on 
the  table,  with  a  mournful  emphasis.  "No,  Mr 
Charles,  it  doesna  run  in  the  usual  manner ; 
and  I  hope  ye'll  no  put  ony  reliance  on't.  Ii 
wasna  right  o'  your  father  to  let  you  live  in 
ignorance  so  long.  Maybe  it  has  been  this 
to -look  that  has  led  you  into  the  debts  ye 
want  to  pjiy." 

The  manner  in  which  this  was  said  affected  the 
unfortunate  first-born  more  than  the  meaning ; 
but  he  replied — 

"  No  doubt,  Mr  Keelevin,  I  may  have  been  less 
scrupulous  in  my  expenses   than  I   would   have 


({ 


wl 


THE  ENTAIL 


t2:]l 


oney  canna 


been  had  I  not  counted  on  tlie  chance  of  my 
birth  riglit." 

"  Mr  Charles,  I'm  sorry  for  you  ;  but  I  wouldna 
do  a  frien's  part  by  you  were  I  to  keep  you  ony 
langer  in  the  dark.  Your  fatlier,  Mr  Charles,  is 
an  honest  man  ;  but  there's  a  bee  in  liis  l)onnet, 
as  we  a'  ken,  anent  his  pedigree.  I  neechia  tell 
you  how  he  has  warslet  to  get  back  the  inherit- 
ance o'  his  forefathers  ;  but  I  am  wae  to  say  that, 
in  a  pursuit  so  meritorious,  he  has  committed  ae 
great  fault.  Really,  Mr  Charles,  I  havena  hardly 
the  heart  to  tell  you." 

"  What  is  it .'' "  said  Charles,  with  emotion  and 
apprehension. 

^'  He  has  made  a  deed,"  said  Mr  Keelevin, 
"whereby  he  has  cut  you  off  frae  the  succession, 
in  order  that  Walter,  your  brother,  might  be  in  a 
condition  to  make  an  exchange  of  the  Plealands 
for  the  twa  mailings  that  were  wantinij  to  make 
up  wi'  the  Grii)py  property  a  restoration  of  the 
auld  estate  of  Kittlestonheugh  ;  and  I  doubt  it's 
o'  a  nature  in  consequence  that,  even  were  he 
willing,  canna  be  easily  altered." 

To  this  heart-withering  conmiunication  Charles 
made  no  answer.  He  stood  for  several  minutes 
astonished,  and  then,  giving  Mr  Keelevin  a  wild 
look,  shuddered,  and  quitted  the  office. 

Instead  of  returning  home,  he  rushed  with 
rnpid  and  unequal  steps  down  the  Callowgate, 
and,  turning  to  the  left  hand  on  reaching  the  end 
of  the  street,  never  halted  till  he  had  gained  the 


232 


THE  ENTAIL 


dark  firs  which  overhang  the  cathedral  and  skirt 
the'  Molendinar  Burn,  which  at  the  time  was 
swelled  with  rains,  and  pouring  its  troubled  tor- 
rent almost  as  violently  as  the  tide  of  feelings 
that  struggled  in  his  bosom.  Unconscious  of 
what  he  did,  and  borne  along  by  the  whirlwind 
of  his  own  thoughts,  he  darted  down  the  steep, 
and  for  a  moment  hung  on  the  rocks  at  the  bottom 
as  if  he  meditated  some  frantic  leap.  Recoiling 
and  trembling  with  the  recollections  of  his  family, 
he  threw  himself  on  the  ground,  and  for  some 
time  shut  his  eyes  as  if  he  wished  to  believe  that 
he  was  agitated  only  by  a  dream. 

The  scene  and  the  day  were  in  unison  with  the 
tempest  which  shook  his  frame  and  shivered  his 
mind.  The  sky  was  darkly  overcast.  The  clouds 
were  rolling  in  black  and  lowering  masses,  through 
which  an  occasional  gleam  of  sunshine  flickered 
for  a  moment  on  the  towers  and  pinnacles  of  the 
cathedral,  and  glimmered  in  its  rapid  transit  on 
the  monuments  and  graves  in  the  churchyard. 
A  gloomy  shadow  succeeded ;  and  then  a  white 
and  ghastly  light  hovered  along  the  ruins  of 
the  bishop's  castle,  and  darted  with  a  strong  and 
steady  ray  on  a  gibbet  which  stood  on  the  rising 
ground  beyond.  The  gusty  wind  howled  like  a 
death-dog  among  the  firs,  which  waved  their  dark 
boughs  like  hearse-plumes  over  him  ;  and  the  voice 
of  the  raging  waters  encouraged  his  despair. 

He  felt  as  if  he  had  been  betrayed  into  a  situa- 
tion which  compelled  him  to  surrender  all   the 


THE   ENTAIL 


233 


lionoiirnble  intents  of  liis  life,  .'ind  thut  he  must 
s})en(l  the  comfortless  remnintler  of  his  days  in 
.1  conflict  with  poverty,  a  })rey  to  all  its  tempta- 
tions, expedients,  and  crimes.  At  one  moment  he 
clenched  liis  ^rasp,  and  gnashed  his  teeth,  and 
smote  his  foreliead,  abandoninji^  himself  to  the 
wild  and  headlong  energies  and  instincts  of  a 
rage  that  was  almost  revenge.  At  another,  the 
image  of  Isabella,  so  gentle  and  so  defenceless, 
rose  in  a  burst  of  tenderness  and  sorrow,  and 
subdued  him  with  inexpressible  grief.  But  the 
thought  of  his  children,  in  the  heedless  days  of 
their  innocence,  condemned  to  beggary  by  a  fraud 
against  nature,  again  scattered  these  subsiding 
feelings  like  the  blast  that  brushes  the  waves  of 
the  ocean  into  spindrift. 

This  vehemence  of  feeling  could  not  last  long 
without  producing  some  visible  effect.  When  the 
storm  had  in  soms  aegree  spent  itself,  he  left  the 
wild  and  solitary  spot  where  he  had  given  himself 
so  entirely  up  to  his  passion,  and  returned  towards 
his  home ;  but  his  limbs  trembled,  his  knees  fal- 
tered, and  a  cold  shivering  vibrated  through  his 
whole  frame.  An  intense  pain  was  kindled  in 
his  foreheail ;  every  object  reeled  and  shuddered 
to  him  as  he  passed  ;  and,  before  he  reached  the 
house,  he  was  so  unwell  that  he  immediately  re- 
tired to  bed.  In  the  course  of  the  afternoon  he 
became  delirious,  and  a  rapid  and  raging  fever 
terrified  his  ill-fated  wife. 


(< 


CHAPTER    XXXVIII 


M 


at  fo 


R  KEELEVIN,  M-hen  Charles   had  left  him, 
some 
ectinj 


time  with  his  cheek  resting  on  liis 


hand,  reflecting  on  what  liad  passed  ;  and  in  the 
afternoon  he  ordered  liis  horse  and  rode  over  to 
Gri})py,  where  lie  found  the  laird  sitting  sullenly 
by  himself  in  the  easy-chair  by  the  fireside,  witli 
a  white  niglitcap  on  his  head  and  grey  worsted 
stockings  drawn  over  his  knees. 

"  I'm  wae,  Mr  Walkinshaw/'  said  the  honest 
lawyer  as  he  entered  the  room,  "  to  see  you  in  sic 
an  ailing  condition.  What's  the  matter  wi'  you, 
and  how  lang  hae  ye  been  sae  indisposed  }  " 

Claud  had  not  observed  his  entrance ;  for,  sup- 
posing the  noise  in  opening  the  door  had  been  made 
by  tlie  leddy  in  her  manifold  household  cares,  or  by 
some  one  of  the  servants,  he  never  moved  his  head, 
but  kept  his  eyes  ruminatingly  fixed  on  a  peeliiiii^ 
of  soot  that  was  ominously  fluttering  on  one  of 
the  ribs  of  the  grate,  betokening,  according  to 
the  most  credible  oracles  of  Scottish  superstition, 
the  arrival  of  a  stranger  or  the  occurrence  of  some 
remarkable  event.  But,  on  hearing  the  voice  of 
his  legal  friend,  he  turned  briskly  round. 

234 


THE  ENTAIL 


the   lionest 


"■'  Sit  ye  doun,  Mr  Keelevin,  sit  ye  doun  fore- 
nent^  me.  What's  broii^lit  you  here  the  day? 
Man,  this  is  sore  weather  for  ane  at  vour  time  o' 
life  to  come  so  far  afield/'  was  the  salutation  with 
which  he  received  him. 

^'Ay/'  replied  Mr  Keelevin,  "baith  you  and 
me,  Grippy,  are  beginnint^  to  be  the  waur  o'  the 
wear ;  but  I  didna  expeck  to  find  you  in  sic  a 
condition  as  this.  I  hope  it's  no  the  gout  or  the 
rheumatism." 

Claud,  who  had  the  natural  horror  of  death  as 
strong  as  most  country  gentlemen  of  a  certain  age, 
if  not  of  all  ages,  did  not  much  relish  either  the 
observation  or  the  inquiries.  He,  however,  said, 
with  affected  indifference, — 

'^  No  ;  be  thankit,  it's  neither  the  t'ane  nor 
the  t'ither,  but  just  a  waff-  o'  cauld  that  I  got 
twa  nights  ago — a  bit  towt  ^  that's  no  worth  the 
talking  o'." 

'^  I'm  extraordinar  glad  to  hear't ;  for,  seeing 
you  in  sic  a  frail  and  feckless  state,  I  was  fear't 
that  ye  werena  in  a  way  to  converse  on  any  con- 
cern o'  business.  No  that  I  hae  muckle  to  say  ; 
but  ye  ken  a'  sma'  things  are  a  great  fasherie 
to  a  weakly  person,  and  I  wouldna  discompose 
you,  Mr  Walkinshaw,  unless  you  just  felt  yoursel' 
in  your  right  ordinar,  for,  at  your  time  o'  life, 
ony  disturbance " 

"  My  time  o'  life  ! "   interrupted   the  old  man 

^  Forcnent.     Over  aj^ainst. 
2  Waff.     A  passing  v/ave.  ^  Towt.     Passing  fit. 


'^'.ip. 


236 


THE  ENTAIL 


tartly.  "Surely  I'm  no  sae  aiilci  that  ye  need  to 
be  speaking  o  '  my  time  o'  life  '  ?  But  what's  your 
will,  Mr  Keelevin,  wi'  me  ?" 

Whether  all  this  symjiathetic  condolence  on 
the  part  of  the  lawyer  was  said  in  sincerity  or 
witli  any  ulterior  view  we  need  not  pause  to 
discuss,  for  the  abrupt  question  of  the  invalid 
brought  it  at  once  to  a  conclusion. 

"  In  truth,  laird,"  replied  Mr  Keelevin,  "  I 
cann;*  viy  that  I  hae  onythinf^  o'  a  particular 
tjn' •!lL^''-v  to  trouble  you  anent,  for  I  came  hither 
XfWj?-  ill  ho  way  o'  friendship  than  o'  business, — 
having  had  this  morning  a  visit  frae  your  son 
Charles,  a  fine,  weel-doing  young  man  as  can  be." 

"  He's  weel  enough,"  said  the  old  man  gruffly  ; 
and  the  lawyer  continued — 

"  'Deed,  Mr  Walkinshaw,  he's  mair  than  weel 
enough.  He's  by-common,  and  it  was  with  great 
concern  I  heard  that  you  and  him  are  no  on 
sic  a  footing  of  cordiality  as  I  had  thought  ye 
were." 

"  Has  he  been  making  a  complaint  o'  me  } " 
said  Claud,  looking  sharply,  and  with  a  grim  and 
knotted  brow,  as  if  he  was,  at  the  same  time, 
apprehensive  and  indignant. 

"  He  has  mair  sense  and  discretion,"  replied 
Mr  Keelevin;  "but  he  was  speaking  to  me  on 
a  piece  of  business,  and  I  was  surprised  he  didiia 
rather  confer  wi'  you  ;  till,  in  course  of  conver- 
sation, it  fell  out,  as  it  were  unawares,  that  he 
didna  like  to  speak  to  you  anent  it ;  the  which 


disli 
lack 
ever 
like 


(( 


t( 


Mr 


(( 


THE  ENTAIL 


2.S7 


lir  than  weel 


dislike,  I  jealouse,   could  only  proceed    o'   some 

lack  o'  confidence  between  you,  niair  than  should 

ever  be  between  a  father  and  a  weel-behaved  son 

like  Mr  Charles." 

''And  what  was't?"  said  Grippy  dryly 

"  I  doubt  that  his  income  is  scant  to  his  want, 

Mr  Walkinshaw." 

"  He's   an   extravagant   fool,   and    ne'er  had  a 

liand  to  thraw  a  key  in  a  lock.      When  I  began 

the  world  I  hadna " 


(t 


Surely,"  interrupted  Mr  Keelevin,  "ye  could 
ne'er  think  the  son  o'  a  man  in  your  circum- 
stances should  hain  ^  and  hamper  as  ye  er 
necessitated  to  do  in  your  younger  years.  P  it, — 
no  to  mak  a  hearing  or  an  argument  concerning 
the  same, — Mr  Charles  re(juires  a  sma'  sum  to  get 
him  free  o'  a  wee  bit  difficulty, — for  ye  kt  there 
are  some  folk,  Mr  Walkinshaw,  that  a  flea-bite 
molests  like  the  lash  o'  a  whip." 

The  old  man  made  no  answer  to  this,  but  sat 
for  some  time  silent,  drawing  down  his  brows 
and  twirling  his  thumbs.  Mr  Keelevin  waited 
in  patience  till  he  should  digest  the  reply  he  so 
evidently  meditated. 

"  I  hae  aye  thought  Charlie  honest,  at  least," 
said  Grippy  ;  "  but  I  maun  say  that  this  fashes  me, 
for  if  he's  in  sic  straits,  there's  no  telling  what 
liberties  he  may  be  led  to  tak  wi'  my  property  in 
the  shop." 

Mr    Keelevin,    who    in   the    first   part   of  this 
^  To  hain.     To  be  penurious. 


2.'J8 


THE  ENTAIL 


reply  nad  bent  ea«Terly  forward,  was  so  thunder- 
struck by  the  eonchision  that  he  threw  himself 
back  in  his  chair  with  his  arms  extended  ;  but  in 
a  moment  recoverin*:^  from  his  consternation,  hv 
said,  with  fervour, — 

"  Mr  Walkinsliaw,  I  mind  weel  the  reproof  ye 
gave  me  when  I  remonstrated  wi'  you  a,i:jainst  the 
injustice  ye  were  doing  the  poor  lad  in  the  entail; 
but  there's  no  consideration  on  this  earth  will  let 
me  alloo  you  to  gang  on  in  a  course  of  error  and 
prejudice.  Your  son  is  an  h(mest  young  man. 
I  wish  I  could  say  his  father  kent  his  worth,  or 
was  worthy  o'  him — and  I'll  no  see  him  wrang- 
ously  driven  to  the  door  without  taking  his  part 
and  letting  the  world  ken  wha's  to  blame.  I'll 
no  say  ye  hae  defrauded  him  o'  his  birthright, 
for  the  property  was  your  ain ;  but  if  ye  drive 
him  forth  the  shop,  and  cast  him  wi'  his  sma' 
family  on  the  scrimp  mercy  of  mankind,  I  would 
be  wanting  to  human  nature  in  general  if  I  didna 
say  it  was  most  abominable,  and  that  you  yoursel', 
wi'  a*  your  trumpery  o'  Walkinshaws  and  Kittle- 
stonheughs,  ought  to  be  scourged  by  the  hands 
o'  the  hangman.  So  do  as  ye  like,  Mr  Walkin- 
shaw :  ride  to  the  deevil  at  the  full  gallop  for 
aught  I  care ;  but  ye's  no  get  out  o'  this  world 
without  hearing  the  hue-and-cry  that  every  Chris- 
tian soul  canna  but  raise  after  you." 

(Jlaud  was  completely  cowed  both  by  the  anger 
and  menace  of  the  honest  lawyer,  but  still  more 
by  the  iinbraidings  of  his  own  startled  conscience; 


thp:  entail 


^2-M) 


■conscience ; 


and  he  said,  in  a  humiliated  tone,  th«it  ahnost 
j)rovoked  contempt, — 

^' Ye're  oner  hasty,  Mr  Keelevin.  I  (li(hia 
mint  ^  a  word  about  driving  him  fortli  the  shop. 
Did  lie  tell  you  how  iniickle  his  defect  was?  " 

"Twa  miserable  hundred  jiounds,"  replied  Mr 
Keelevin,  somewhat  subsiding'  into  his  wonted 
equanimity. 

"Twa  hundred  pound  o'  debt!"  exclaimed 
Claud. 

"  Ay,"  said  Mr  Keelevin  ;  "  and  I  marvel  it's 
no  mair,  when  I  consider  the  stinting  and  the 
sterile  father  o'  him." 

"  If  I  had  the  siller,  Mr  Keelevin,"  replied 
Claud,  "to  convince  baith  you  and  him  that  I'm 
no  the  niggar  ye  tak  me  for,  I  would  gie  you't 
wi'  hearty  gudewill ;  but  the  advance  I  made 
to  get  Cxeordie  into  his  partnership  has  for  the 
])resent  rookit  me  -  o'  a'  I  had  at  command." 

"No  possible!"  exclaimed  Mr  Keelevin,  sub- 
dued from  his  indignation  ;  adding,  "And  heavens 
preserve  us,  Mr  Walkinshaw,  an'  onything  were 
happening  on  a  sudden  to  carry  you  aff,  ye  hae 
made  nae  provision  for  Charlie  nor  your  dochter." 

There  was  something  in  this  observation  which 
made  the  old  man  shrink  up  into  himself  and 
vibrate  from  head  to  heel.  In  the  course  of  less 
than  a  minute,  however,  he  regained  his  self- 
possession,  and  said — 

"'Deed,  your  observe,  Mr  Keelevin,  is  very  just, 

1  Mint.     Hint,  '  Rookit  inc.     Cleaned  me  out. 


240 


I  UK   KNTAIL 


and  I  oii'^lit  to  do  sometliin^  to  provide  for  "what 
may  come  to  \y.\ss.  I  maun  try  and  ii;vt  Watty  to 
concur  wV  nic  in  sonu'  hit  scttlcincnt  tliat  may 
lighten  the  disaj)j)ointnK'nt  to  Charlie  and  Meji^, 
should  it  })U>aso  the  Lord  to  tak  me  to  Ilimsel' 
without  n  reasonahle  warnin«r.  ('an  sic  a  ])aj)er 
be  made  out  ?  " 

''Oh yes  !  "  replied  the  wortliy  lawyer,  delif^hted 
with  so  successful  an  issue  to  liis  voluntary  mis- 
sion ;  ''ye  hae  tvva  ways  o'  doin«i^  the  business: 
either  by  ^ettin^  Watty  to  a^ree  to  an  aliment, 
or  by  making  a  bond  of  provision  to  Charles  and 
Mrs  Milrookit." 

Claud  said  he  would  prefer  the  former  mode, 
observing,  with  respect  to  the  Litter,  that  he 
thoup!;ht  it  would  be  a  cheating  o'  the  law  to 
take  tlie  other  course. 

"  As  for  cheating  the  law,"  said  the  lawyer, 
"ye  need  gie  yoursel'  no  uneasiness  about  it, 
provided  ye  do  honestly  by  your  ain  bairns  and 
the  rest  o'  the  community." 

And  it  was  in  consequence  agreed  that,  in  the 
course  of  a  day  or  two,  Claud  should  take  Walter 
to  Glasgow  to  execute  a  deed,  by  which,  in  the 
event  of  surviving  his  father,  he  would  undertake 
to  pay  a  certain  annuity  for  the  behoof  of  Charles's 
family  and  that  of  his  sister,  Mrs  Milrookit. 


In 


CHAPTER    XXXIX 

J  X  furtherance  of  the  arranfi^ement  a^eed  upon, 
as  we  have  described  in  the  foreg()in<]f  chapter, 
as  soon  as  Mr  Keelevin  had  retired  Chiud  sum- 
moned Walter  into  the  })arlour.  It  happened 
that  the  leddy,  during  the  period  of  the  lawyer's 
visit,  had  been  so  engaged  in  another  j)art  of  the 
house  that  she  was  not  aware  of  the  conference 
till,  by  chance,  she  saw  him  riding  down  tlie 
avenue.  We  need  not,  therefore,  say  that  she 
experienced  some  degree  of  alarm  at  the  idea 
of  a  lawyer  having  been  with  her  husband  un- 
known to  her,  and  particularly  when,  so  im- 
mediately after  his  departure,  her  darling  was 
requested  to  attend  his  father. 

The  mother  and  son  entered  the  room  together. 
Walter  came  from  the  nursery,  where  he  had  been 
dandling  his  child,  and  his  appea-rance  was  not  of 
the  most  prepossessing  kind.  From  the  death  of 
his  wife,  in  whose  time,  under  her  dictation,  he 
was  brushed  up  into  something  of  a  gentlemanly 
exterior,  he  had  become  gradually  more  and  more 
slovenly.  He  only  shaved  on  Saturday  night, 
and    buttoned    his    breeches'    knees    on    Sunday 

VOL.    I.  241  Q 


THE  ENTAIL 


morninc:.  Nor  was  the  dress  of  Leddy  Orippy 
at  all  out  of  keepiniT  with  that  of  her  hopeful 
favourite.  Her  time-out-of-mind  red  quilted  silk 
petticoat  was  broken  into  many  lioles  ;  her  thrice- 
dyed  double  tabinet  ^o^\n,  of  bottle  ^reen,  with 
larp^e  ruffle  cuff's,  was  in  need  of  another  dip,  for 
in  her  various  culinary  inspections  it  had  received 
many  stains ;  and  the  superstructure  of  lawn 
and  catgut,  ornamented  with  ribands,  dyed  blar 
in  ink,  surmounting;  her  ill-toileted  toupee,  had 
every  appearance  of  havins^  been  smoked  into 
yellow  beyond  all  j)ower  of  blanching  in  the 
bleacher's  art. 

''And  so,  ji^udeman,"  said  she  on  enterin<T  th«^ 
room,  "ye  hae  had  that  auld  sneck-druNver,^ 
Keelevin,  wi'  you  ?  1  won'er  what  you  and  hiiu 
can  hae  to  say  in  sic  a  clandestine  manner  th.it 
the  door  maun  be  aye  steekit  "  when  ye're  the- 
gither  at  your  confabbles.  Surely  there's  nac 
honestv  that  a  man  can  hae  whilk  his  wife 
oughtna  to  come  in  for  a  share  of." 

''  Sit  down,  Girzy  Hypel,  and  baud  thy  tongue," 
was  tlie  peevish  command  which  this  speecii 
provoked. 

'*  What  for  will  I  baud  my  tongue  ?  A  fool 
posture  that  would  be,  and  no  very  commodious 
at  this  time,  for  ye  see  my  fingers  are  coomy."  ^ 

''Woman,  t'ou's  past  bearing!"  exclaimed  her 
disconcerted  husband. 


bod; 
'I' 

left 
said 


^  Auld  sneck-draiccr.     Experienced,  artful  follow. 


Steekit.     Closed. 


3  Co.nny.     Begrimed. 


THE  ENTAIL 


243 


eddy  (irippy 

her  hopeful 

1  quilted  silk 

i  ;  her  thriee- 

e  green,  with 

Dther  dip,  for 

had  reeeived 

^ure    of    huvn 

ds,  dyed  blue 

I  toupee,  had 

smoked   into 

cliing    in    the 


entering  the 
meek-drawer,^ 

vou  and  him 

I  manner  tliat 

len  ye're  the- 

there's    nac 

lilk    his    wile 

|l  thy  tongue," 
this    speech 

true  ?     i\-   fool 
commodious 

fe  coomy."  ^ 
exclaimed  her 


kful  follow. 
BG[^riTnod. 


"  An'  it's  nae  shame  to  me,  gudcman,  for  every- 
body kens  I'm  a  grannie." 

The  laird  smote  his  right  tliigli  and  shook  his 
left  hand  with  vexation  ;  presently,  however,  lie 
said — 

''  Weel,  weel ;  but  sit  ye  down  ;  and,  Watty,  tak 
t'ou  a  chair  beside  her,  for  I  want  to  consult  you 
anent  a  paper  that  I'm  mindit  to  hae  drawn  out 
for  a  satisfaction  to  you  a',  for  nana  can  tell  when 
their  time  may  come." 

'*^Ye  ne'er  made  a  mair  sensible  observe,  gude- 
nian,  in  a'  your  days,"  replied  the  leddy,  sitting 
down;  ^*^and  it's  vera  right  to  make  your  will  and 
testament ;  for  ye  ken  what  a  stramash  happened 
in  the  Glengowlmahallaghan  family  by  reason  o' 
the  laird  holograj)hing  his  codicil,  whilk,  to  be 
sure,  was  a  dreadfu'  omission,  as  my  cousin,  his 
wife,  fand  in  her  widowhood  ;  for  a'  the  mov- 
ables thereby  gaed  wi'  the  heritage  to  his  aidd 
sou  by  the  first  wife — even  the  vera  silver  })ourie 
that  I  gied  her  mysel'  wi'  my  own  hands,  in  a  gifi; 
at  her  marriage — a'  gaed  to  the  heir." 

'^T'ou  kens,"  said  Claud,  interru})ting  her 
oration,  ''  that  I  hae  })rovided  thee  wi'  the  life- 
rent o'  a  house  o'  fifteen  j)ounds  a  year,  furniture, 
juid  a  jointure  of  a  hundred  and  twenty  over  and 
aboon  the  outcoming  o'  thy  father's  gathering. 
So  t'ou  canna  expeck,  Girzy,  that  I  would  wrang 
our  bairns  wi'  ony  mair  overlay  on  thy  account." 

"Ye're  grown  richer,  gudeman,  than  when  we 
came  thegither,"  replied  the  leddy;  *' and  ne'er 


244 


THE  ENTAIL 


a  man  made  siller  without  his  wife's  leave.  So  it 
would  be  a  most  hard  thing,  after  a'  my  toilin<r 
and  moiling,  to  make  me  nae  better  o't  than  the 
stricts  o'  the  law  in  my  marriage  articles  and  my 
father's  will,  whilk  was  a  gratus  almous  that  made 
me  nane  behauden  to  you.  No,  an'  ye  mean  to 
do  justice,  gudeman,  I'll  get  my  thirds  o'  the 
conquest  ye  hae  gotten  sin'  the  time  o'  our 
marriage — and  I'll  be  content  wi'  nae  less." 

"Well,  weel,  Girzy,  we'll  no  cast  out  about  a 
settlement  for  thee." 

"  It  would  be  a  fearful  thing  to  hear  tell  o'  an' 
we  did,"  replied  the  leddy ;  "  living  as  we  hae 
lived,  a  comfort  to  ane  anither  for  thirty  years, 
and  bringing  up  sic  a  braw  family  wi'  so  nmckle 
credit.  No,  gudeman,  I  hae  mair  confidence  in 
you  than  to  misdoot  your  love  and  kindness,  noo 
that  ye're  drawing  so  near  your  latter  end  as  to 
be  seriously  thinking  o'  making  a  will.  But,  for 
a'  that,  I  would  like  to  ken  what  I'm  to  hae." 

'^Very  right,  Girzy,  very  right,"  said  Claud; 
"  but,  before  we  can  come  to  a  clear  understand- 
ing,  me  and  Watty  maun  conform  in  a  bit  paper 
by  oursel's,  just  that  there  may  be  nae  debate 
hereafter  about  his  right  to  the  excambio  Me 
made  for  the  Plealands." 

"  I'll  no  })ut  hand  to  ony  drumhead  paper 
again,"  said  Watty,  "for  fear  it  wrang  my  wee 
Betty  Bodle." 

Although  this  was  said  in  a  vacant,  heedless 
manner,  yet  it  disturbed  the  mind  of  his  father 


Iccave.  So  it 
i'  my  toilinj; 
o't  than  the 
icles  and  my 
us  that  made 
'  ye  mean  to 
hirds  o'  the 
time  o'  our 
e  less." 
out  about  a 

ear  tell  o*  an' 
ft  as  we  hae 
thirty  years, 
wi'  so  nmckle 
confidence  in 
[kindness,  noo 
er  end  as  to 
A^ill.  But,  for 
n  to  hae." 

said   Claud; 

,r  understantl- 

11  a  bit  paper 

c  nae  debate 

excambio  nvc 


THE  ENTAIL 


245 


3ant,  heedless 
of  his  father 


exceedingly  ;  for  tlie  strange  obstinacy  with  which 
the  natural  had  persisted  in  liis  refusal  to  attend 
the  funeral  of  his  wife  had  shown  that  there  was 
something  deeper  and  more  intractable  in  his 
character  than  any  one  had  previously  imagined. 
But  opposition  had  only  the  effect  of  making 
(laud  more  pertinacious,  while  it  induced  him 
to  change  his  mode  of  operation.  Perceiving,  or 
at  least  being  afraid,  that  he  might  again  call  his 
obduracy  into  action,  he  accordingly  shifted  his 
ground,  and,  instead  of  his  wonted  method  of 
treating  Walter  with  commands  and  menaces,  lie 
dexterously  availed  himself  of  the  leddy's  auxiliary 
assistance. 

"  Far  be  it,  Watty,  frae  me,  thy  father,"  said 
he,  "  to  think  or  wish  wrang  to  thee  or  thine ; 
but  t'ou  kens  that  in  family  settlements,  where 
there's  a  patch't  property  like  ours,  W'e  maun 
hae  conjunck  proceedings.  Noo,  as  I'm  fain  to 
do  something  satisfactory  to  thy  mother,  t'ou'U 
surely  never  objeck  to  join  me  in  the  needfu' 
instruments  to  gie  effeck  to  my  intentions." 

"  I'll  do  eve.'ything  to  serve  my  mother,"  re- 
plied Walter,  'Mjut  I'll  no  sign  ouy  paj)ers." 

"Surely.   Watty   Walkinshaw,"    exclaimed   the 

'tition  of  liis  re- 


iddy 


•P 


;pe 


n 


mhead    paper   ■     fusal,  "ye  wouklna  see  me  in  want,  and  drive 
rang  my  wee   I    to  a  needcessity  to  gang  frae  door  to  door,  wi'  a 

meal-pock  round  my  neck   and  an   oaken   rungi 


in  my  hand  ? 


1  Runa.     Stick. 


24() 


THE  ENTAIL 


"  I  would  rather  ^ie  you  I'ly  tw<i  dollars  and 
the  auld  Frencli  lialf-a-crown  that  I  ^c»t.  Ian,';s5'iiej 
on  my  birthday,  frae  grannie/'  said  ^\'i?;ty. 

*'  Then  what  for  will  ye  no  1  jt  your  lath'^L'  make 
a  ri«rhtfu'  settlement?"  cried  his  mother. 

*'  I'm  sure  I  dinna  hinder  him.  He  niay  mak 
fifty  settlements  for  me  :  I'll  ne'er  fin'   fau  t  wi' 

If  9 
mn. 

^'Then/'  said  the  leddy,  "ye  canna  object  to 
liis  reasonable  request." 

^'  I  objeck  to  no  reasonable  request;  I  only  say, 
mother,  that  I'll  no  sign  ony  ])a})er  whatsomever, 
wheresomever,  howsomever,  nor  ever  and  ever — 
so  ye  needna  try  to  flcech^  me." 

''Ye're  an  outstrapolous  neer-do-weel,"  cried 
the  leddy  in  a  rage,  knocking  her  nieves'^  smartly 
together,  "  to  speak  to  thy  mother  in  that  way  ; 
t'ou  sail  sign  the  paper,  an'  te  life  be  in  thy 
body." 

"I'll  no  wrang  my  ain  bairn  for  father  nor 
mother ;  I'll  gang  to  Jock  Harrigais  the  fleshcr, 
and  pay  him  to  hag  aff  my  right  hand,  afore  I 
put  pen  to  law-p  •;;:.'  again." 

"This  is  a'  I  ;.  for  my  love  and  affection!" 
exclaimed  the  leddy,  bursting  into  tears ;  while 
her  husband,  scarcely  less  agitated  by  the  firm- 
ness with  which  his  purpose  was  resisted,  sat  in 
a  state  of  gloomy  abstraction,  seemingly  uncon- 
scious of  the  altercation.  "  But,"  added  Mrs 
Walkinshaw,  "  I'm  no  in  thy  reverence,  t'ou  uu- 
^  Flccck.     Pcr.siuide.  '  Nievcs.     Fists. 


in  that  way  ; 


TI^.E  ENTAIL 


i>47 


natdral  Absalom,  to  rebel  sac  a<rainst  thy  part^nts. 
I  hae  niayhe  a  ho 


r?^'^r, 


^  and   1  ken,  w 


Jian 


I  d 


le. 


wha  sail  get  thc^  gouden  guts  o't.      \N'ilt  t'ou  sign 
the  paper  ?  ' 

"I'll  burn  afl'niy  right  hand  in  the  lowing  fire, 
that  I  may  ne'er  be  able  to  write  the  serape  o'  a 
pen;"  and  with  these  emphatie  words,  said  in  a 
soft  and  simple  manner,  he  rose  from  his  seat,  and 
was  aetually  proeeeding  towards  the  fireplace, 
when  a  loud  knocking  at  the  door  disturbed,  and 
put  an  end  to,  the  conversation.  It  wa;s  a  mes- 
senger sent  from  old  Lady  Plealands  to  inform 
her  daughter  of  Charles's  malady,  and  to  say  that 
the  doctor,  who  had  been  called  in,  was  greatly 
alamied  at  the  i.tpid  })r()gress  of  the  disease. 

1  Hoygcr.     Hero,  a  "stocking-foot"  ;  lit.,  a  stock. ug  with- 
out tho  foot. 


mmm 


CHAPTER    XL 

JLjEDDY  GRIPPY  was  one  of  those  worthy 
gentlewomen  who,  without  the  slightest  interest 
or  feehng  in  any  object  or  purpose  with  wliich 
they  happen  to  be  engaged,  conceive  themselves 
bound  to  perform  all  the  customary  indications 
of  the  profoundest  sympathy  and  the  deepest 
sensibility.  Accordingly,  no  sooner  did  she  re- 
ceive the  message  of  her  son's  melancholy  con- 
dition than  she  proceeded  Ibrthwith  to  prepare 
herself  for  going  immediately  to  Glasgow. 

"1  canna  expeck,  gudeman,"  said  she,  "that, 
wi'  your  host,i  ye'll  come  wi'  me  to  Glasgow  on 
this  very  sorrowful  occasion ;  therefore  I  hope 
ye'll  tak  gude  care  o'  yoursel',  and  see  that  the 
scrvan'-lasses  get  your  water-gruel,  wi'  a  tamarind 
in't,  at  night,  if  it  should  please  Charlie's  Maker, 
by  reason  o'  the  dangerous  distemper,  no  to  alloo 
me  to  come  hame." 

The  intelligence  had  so  troubled  the  old  man, 
bo\/ever,  that  he  scarcely  heard  her  observation. 
The  indisposition  of  his  son  seemed  somehow  to 
be  c^mnected  with  the   visit  of  Mr  Keelevin, — 

^  Host.     Cough. 
248 


THE  ENTAIL 


249 


lose    worthy 

test  interest 

with  which 

2  themselves 

y  indications 

the   deepest 

did  she  rc- 

ancholy  con- 

i   to  prepare 

asgow. 

she,  "that, 

Glasgow  on 

iV)re    I    hopi- 

see  that  the 

'  a  tamarind 

lie's  Maker, 

no  to  alloo 

he  old  man, 

lobservation. 

somehow  to 

Keelevin, — 


which  it  certainly  was —  ;  and  while  his  wife  busily 
prepared  for  her  visit,  liis  mind  wandered  in 
devious  conjectures,  without  being  able  to  reach 
anything  calculated  either  to  satisfy  his  wonder 
or  to  appease  his  apprehension. 

"  It's  very  right,  Girzy,  my  dear,"  said  he,  "  that 
ye  sou'd  gang  in  and  see  Charlie,  poor  lad  ;  I'm 
extraordinar  sorry  to  hear  o'  this  income,^  and 
ye'll  be  sure  to  tak  care  he  wants  for  nothing. 
Hear'st  thou  :  look  into  the  auld  pocket-book 
in  the  scrutoire  neuk  ;  t'ou'll  aiblins  fin'  there  a 
five-pound  note — tak  it  wi'  thee — there's  no  sic 
an  extravagant  connnodity  in  ony  man's  house  as 
a  delirious  fever." 

"Ah!"  replied  the  leddy,  looking  at  her 
d<arling  and  ungrateful  Walter,  "  ye  see  what  it 
is  to  hae  a  kind  father ;  but  ill  ye  deserve  ony 
attention  frae  either  father  or  mother,  for  your 
condumacity  is  ordained  to  break  our  hearts." 

"Mother,"  said  Walter,  "dinna  be  in  sic  a 
hun*}' — I  hae  something  that'll  do  Charlie  good." 
In  saying  this  he  rose  and  went  to  tlie  nursery, 
whence  he  immediately  returned  with  a  j)ill-box. 

"  There,  mother  !  tak  that  wi'  you.  It's  a  box 
o'  excellent  medicaments,  either  for  the  cougli, 
or  for  the  cauld,  or  for  shortness  o'  breath,— 
to  sae  naething  among  frien's  o'  a  constipation. 
Gie  Charlie  twa  at  bedtime  and  ane  in  the 
morning,  and  ye'll  see  an  effeck  sufficient  to  cure 
every  impediment  in  man  or  woman." 

1  Im',omr.     Used  hero  as  hodily  infirmity. 


250 


THE  ENTAIL 


Lcddy  Grippy,  with  tlie  utmost  contempt  for 
the  pills,  snatched  the  box  out  of  his  hand  and 
flun«r  it  behind  the  fire.  She  then  seated  herself 
in  the  chair  opposite  her  husband,  and,  while  she 
at  the  same  time  tied  her  cloak  and  placed  on 
her  bonnet,  she  said — 

"I'll  alloo  at  last,  ^udeman,  that  I  hae  been 
a'  my  days  in  an  error;  for  I  couldna  hae  believed 
that  Watt}'  was  sic  an  idiot  o'  a  naturalist,  had 
I  no  lived  to  see  this  day.  But  the  will  o'  Pro- 
vidence be  done  on  earth  as  it  is  in  heaven  ; 
and  let  us  pray  that  he  may  be  forgiven  the  sair 
heart  he  has  gien  to  us,  his  .'igcd  parents,  as  we 
forgive  our  debtors.  I  won'er,  howsever,  that 
my  mother  didna  send  word  o'  the  nature  o'  this 
delirietness  o'  Charlie,  for,  to  be  surely,  it's  a 
very  sudden  c()me-to-})ass ;  but  the  things  o'  time 
are  no  to  be  lippent  to,i  and  life  fleeth  away  like 
a  weaver's  shuttle,  and  no  man  knoweth  where- 
soever it  findeth  rest  for  the  sole  of  its  foot.  But 
before  I  go  :  ye'll  no  negleck  to  tell  Jenny  in 
the  morning  to  tak  the  three  spyniels  o'  yarn 
to  Josey  Thrums,  the  weaver,  for  my  Dornick 
towelling ;  and  ye'll  be  sure  to  put  Tam  Modi- 
wart  in  mind  that's  he  no  to  harl  -  the  plough 
out  ouer  the  green  brae  till  I  get  my  big  washing 
out  o'  hand.  As  for  t'ee,  Watty,  stay  till  this 
calamity's  past,  and  I'll  let  ye  ken  what  it  is 
to  treat  baith  father  and  motlier  wi*  sae  little 
reverence.  Really,  gudeman,  I  begin  to  hae  a 
^  Lippent  to.     Depended  upon.  ^  jjarl.     Trail. 


THE  ENTAIL 


251 


•ontcnipt  for 
lis  liand  and 
L'atcd  herself 
id,  wliile  she 
id   plaeed  on 

t  I  hae  been 

hae  behaved 

Liturahst,  had 

will  o'  Pro- 

in    heaven  ; 

iven  the  sair 

arents,  as  we 

'wsevcr,   that 

nature  o'  this 

surelv,  it's  a 

lings  o'  time 

th  away  like 

weth  where- 

ts  foot.      But 

3II    Jenny  in 

liels    o'  yarn 

my  Dornick 

Tam  Modi- 

tlie  plou;2;li 

)i<^  washin<^ 

ay  till    this 

what    it   is 

i'  sae  Uttle 

n  to  hae   a 

'/urZ.     Trail. 


notion  that  lie's,  as  auld  Elspeth  Freet,  the  mid- 
wife, anee  said  to  nie,  a  ta'enawa  ;  and  I  would 
be  nane  surprised  that  whoever  lives  to  see  him 
dee  will  find  in  the  bed  a  benweed  or  a  windle- 
strae,  instead  o'  a  Christian  corpse.  But  suffieient 
for  the  day  is  the  evil  thereof;  and  this  sore 
news  o'  our  auld  son  should  mak  us  walk  humbly, 
and  no  repine  at  the  mercies  set  before  us  in  this 
our  sinfu'  estate." 

The  worthy  leddy  might  Iiave  continued  her 
edifying  exhortation  for  some  time  longer;  but 
her  husband  grew  impatient,  and  harshly  inter- 
rupted her  eloquence  by  reminding  her  that  the 
day  was  far  advanced,  and  that  the  road  to 
Glasgow  was  both  deep  and  dreigli.^ 

"  I  would  counsel  you,  Girzy  riy})el,"  said  he, 
"  no  to  put  off  your  time  wi'  sic  havers  here,  but 
gang  intil  the  town,  and  send  us  out  word  in 
the  morning,  if  ye  diiiiia  come  hame,  how  Charlie 
may  happen  to  be ;  for  I  canna  but  say  that  thir 
news  are  no  just  what  I  could  hae  wished  to 
hear  at  this  time.  As  for  what  we  hae  been 
saying  to  Watty,  we  baith  ken  he's  a  kind-hearted 
chiel,  and  he'll  think  better  or  the  morn  o'  what 
we  were  speaking  about — willna  ye,  Watty  }  " 

"  I'll  think  as  inuckle's  ye  like,"  said  the  faithful 
natural,  ''  but  I'll  sign  nae  papers  :  that's  a  fact 
afore  divines.  What  for  do  ye  aye  fash  me  wi' 
your  deeds  and  your  instruments  ?  I'm  sure 
baith  Charlie  and  Geordie  could  write  better 
^  Dnujh.     Wearisumo. 


252 


THE  ENTATT. 


than  ino,  sind  ye  ne'er  troul)l((l  tliem.  But  I 
jealouse  the  cause — an'  my  «rran(Ujiither  hadna  left 
me  his  lawful  heir  to  the  Pl<  ilauds,  I  miirht 
hae  sat  at  the  ehuniley-lu^  wiustlin;:^  on  my 
thumh.  We  a'  hae  frien's  anew  when  we  hae 
onythiui]^,  and  so  I  see  in  a'  this  flytin<jj  and 
fleechinj^;^  l)ut  ve'U  flvte  and  ve'll  Heeeh  till 
puddoeks  «j^row  ehuekystanes  hefore  ye'll  get  me 
to  wran^  my  ain  hairn,  my  bonny  wee  Betty 
Bodle,  that  hasna  ane  that  cares  for  her  but  only 
my  leafu*  lane."  ^ 

The  leddy  would  have  renewed  her  remonstra- 
tory  animadversions  on  his  obstinacy,  but  the  laird 
again  reminded  her  of  the  length  of  the  journey  in 
such  an  evening  before  her  ;  and,  after  a  few  half 
advices  and  half  reproaches,  she  left  the  house. 

Indisposed  as  Claud  had  j)reviously  felt  himself, 
or  seemed  to  be,  she  had  not  been  long  away 
when  he  rose  from  his  easy-chair  and  walked 
slowly  across  the  room  ^ith  his  hands  behind, 
swinging  his  body  heavily  as  he  paced  the  floor. 
Walter,  who  still  remained  on  his  seat,  appeared 
for  some  time  not  to  notice  his  father's  gestures  ; 
but  the  old  man  unconsciously  began  to  quicken 
his  steps,  and  at  last  walked  so  rapidly  that  his 
son's  attention  was  roused. 

'^  Father,"  said  he,  "hae  ye  been  takintj 
epicacco  .^ — for  that  was  just  the  way  that  I  was 
tell't  to  gang  when  I  was  last  noweel." 

1  Flceching.     Flattering. 

2  Lcafu  lane.     Lonoly  and  all  alone. 


TIIK   ENTAIL 


'iJ'J 


m.  Riit  I 
liadna  left 
s,  I  miij^ht 
iijUj  oil  iTiy 
en  we  hae 
1ytiii«r  and 
rieeeh  till 
i\\  get  mt 
wee  Betty 
ir  but  only 

remonstra- 

it  the  laird 

journey  in 

a  few  half 

e  house. 

It  himself, 

lonij  awav 

id   walked 

Is    behind, 

the  floor. 

appeared 

gestures ; 

:o  quicken 

y  that  his 


n     taking 
hat  I  was 


"No,  no!"  exelainu'd  the  wretched  old  man, 
'M)ut  1  hae  drank  the  bitterest  dose  o'  life. 
There's  nae  vomit  for  a  sick  soul — nae  jiurge 
for  a  foul  conscience." 

These  were,  however,  confessions  that  escaj)e(l 
from  him  unawares,  like  the  sjiarks  that  are 
elicited  in  violent  percussions;  for  he  soon  drew 
himself  firmly  and  bravely  up,  as  if  he  pn'|)ared 
himself  to  defy  the  worst  that  was  in  store  for 
him.  But  this  resolution  also  as  quickly  passed 
away,  and  he  returned  to  his  easy-chair  and  sat 
down,  as  if  he  had  been  abandoned  of  all  hope, 
and  had  resigned  himself  into  a  dull  and  sleepy 
lethargy. 

For  about  half-an-hour  lie  c(mtinued  in  this 
slumbering  and  inaccessible  state,  at  the  end  of 
which  he  called  one  of  the  servants,  and  bade 
him  be  ready  to  go  to  Glasgow  by  break  of  day 
and  bring  Mr  Keelevin  before  breakfast.  "Some- 
thing maun  be  done,"  said  he  as  the  servant, 
accompanied  by  Walter,  left  the  room ;  "  the 
curse  of  God  has  fallen  upon  me  ;  my  hands  are 
tied ;  a  dreadfu'  chain  is  fastened  about  me ;  I 
hae  cheated  mysel',  and  there's  nae  bail, — no,  not 
in  the  heavens, — for  the  man  that  has  wilfully 
raffled  away  his  own  soul  in  the  guilty  game  o' 
pride." 


.^<> 


^* 


.0. 


.0^..  ^^^^-J* 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


7 


/.. 


A 


1.0 


I.I 


11.25 


M 

2.2 


1^     ^ 

Ao    Hill  2.0 


IIIW 

U    11 1.6 


Photographic 

Sciences 
Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(716)  872-4503 


f\ 


^ 


:\ 


\ 


^..1^ 


% 


'% 


CHAPTER   XLI 

Meanwhile  the  disease  which  had  laid 
Charles  prostrate  was  proceeding  with  a  terrific 
and  devastating  fury.  Before  his  mother  reached 
the  house  he  had  lost  all  sense  of  himself  and 
situation,  and  his  mind  was  a  chaos  of  the  wildest 
and  most  extravagant  fantasies.  Occasionally, 
however,  he  would  sink  into  a  momentary  calm, 
when  a  feeble  gleam  of  reason  would  appear 
amidst  his  ravings,  like  the  transient  glimmer  of 
a  passing  light  from  the  shore  on  the  black  waves 
of  the  stormy  ocean  when  the  cry  has  arisen  at 
midnight  of  a  vessel  on  the  rocks  and  her  crew 
in  jeopardy.  But  these  breathing  pauses  of  the 
fever's  rage  were,  perhaps,  more  dreadful  than 
its  violence  ;  for  they  were  accompanied  with  a 
r'^turn  of  the  moral  anguish  which  had  brought 
Oil  his  malady,  and  as  often  as  his  eye  caught  the 
meek  but  desponding  countenance  of  Isabella  as 
she  sat  by  his  bedside,  he  would  make  a  convul- 
sive effort  to  raise  himself,  and  instantly  relapse 
into  the  tempestuous  raptures  of  the  delirium.  In 
this  state  he  passed  the  night. 

Towards  morning,  symptoms  of  a  change  began 

254 


THE  ENTAIL 


/^   %f   \I 


to  show  themselves,  the  turbulence  of  his  thoui^hts 
subsided,  his  breathing  became  more  regular,  and 
both  Isabella  and  his  mother  were  persuaded 
that  he  was  considerably  better.  Under  this  im- 
pression, the  old  lady  at  daybreak  despatched  a 
messenger  to  inform  his  father  of  the  favourable 
change,  who,  in  the  interval,  had  passed  a  night 
in  a  state  not  more  calm,  and  far  less  enviable, 
than  that  of  his  distracted  son. 

Whatever  was  the  motive  which  induced  Claud, 
on  the  preceding  evening,  to  determine  on  s(  nd- 
ing  for  Mr  Keelevin,  it  would  appear  that  it  did 
not  long  maintain  its  influence ;  for,  before  going 
to  bed,  he  countermanded  the  order.  Indeed, 
his  whole  behaviour  that  night  indicated  a 
strange  and  unwonted  deij^ree  of  indecision.  It 
was  evident  that  he  meditated  some  intention 
which  he  hesitated  to  carry  into  effect,  and  the 
conflict  banished  sleep  from  his  pillow.  When 
the  messenger  from  Glasgow  arrived  he  was 
already  dressed,  and,  as  none  of  the  servants 
were  stirring,  he  opened  the  door  himself.  The 
news  certainly  gave  him  pleasure.  But  they  also 
produced  some  change  in  the  secret  workings  of 
his  mind,  of  no  auspicious  augury  to  the  fulfil- 
ment of  the  parental  intenticm  which  he  had 
probably  formed,  but  as  probably  was  reluctant 
to  realise,  as  it  could  not  be  carried  into  effect 
without  material  detriment  to  that  one  single 
dominant  object  to  which  his  whole  life,  efforts, 
and    errors  had    been   devoted.      At    least,  from 


25G 


THE  ENTAIL 


the  moment  he  received  the  agreeable  intelli- 
gence that  Charles  was  better  his  agitation 
ceased,  and  he  resumed  his  seat  in  the  elbow- 
chair  by  the  parlour  fireside  as  composedly  as  if 
nothing  had  occurred,  in  any  degree,  to  trouble 
the  apparently  even  tenor  of  his  daily  unsocial 
and  solitary  reflections.  In  this  situation  he  fell 
into  a  sleep,  from  which  he  was  roused  by 
another  messenger  with  still  more  interesting 
intelligence  to  him  than  even  the  convalescence 
(as  it  was  supposed)  of  his  favourite  son. 

Mrs  George  Walkinshaw  had,  for  some  time, 
given  a  large  promise  in  her  appearance  of  add- 
ing to  the  heirs  o^  Kittlestonheugh ;  but,  by  her 
residence  in  Glasgow,  and  by  her  holding  little 
intercourse  with  the  Grippy  family  (owing  to  her 
own  situation,  and  to  her  dislike  of  the  members, 
especially  after  Walter  had  been  brought  back 
with  his  child),  the  laird  and  leddy  were  less  ac- 
quainted with  her  maternal  progress  than  might 
have  been  expected,  particularly  when  the  anxiety 
of  the  old  man  with  respect  to  male  issue  is  con- 
sidered. Such  things,  however,  are  of  common 
occurrence  in  all  families ;  and  so  it  happened 
that  during  the  course  of  this  interesting  night 
Mrs  George  had  been  delivered,  and  that  her 
husband,  as  in  duty  bound,  in  the  morning  de- 
spatched a  maid-servant  to  inform  his  father  and 
mother  of  the  joyous  event. 

The  messenger,  Jenny  Purdie,  had  several  years 
before  been  in  the  servitude  of  the  laird's  house. 


THE  ENTAIL 


257 


from  which  she  translated  herself  to  that  of  George. 
Being  something  forward,  at  the  same  time  sly  and 
adroit,  and  having  heard  how  much  her  old  master 
had  been  disappointed  that  Walter's  daughter  was 
not  a  son,  she  made  no  scruple  of  employing  a  little 
address  in  communicating  her  news.  Accordingly, 
when  the  laird,  disturbed  in  his  slumber  by  her 
entrance,  roused  himself,  and  turned  round  to  see 
who  it  was  that  had  come  into  the  room,  she  pre- 
sented herself  as  she  liad  walked  from  the  royal 
city, — muffled  up  in  a  dingy  red  cloak,  her  dark  blue 
and  white  striped  petticoat  sorely  scanty,  and  her 
glowing  purple  legs  and  well-spread  shoeless  feet 
bearing  liberal  proof  of  the  speed  with  which  she 
had  spattered  and  splashed  along  the  road. 

"  I  wish  you  muckle  joy,  laird  !  I  hae  brought 
you  blithesmeat,"  was  her  salutation. 

"  What  is't,  Jenny  }  "  said  the  old  man. 

^'I'll  let  you  guess  that,  unless  ye  promise  to 
gie  me  half-a-crown,"  was  her  reply. 

"  T'ou  canna  t'  '-^k  I  would  ware  ^  less  on  sic 
errand  as  t'ou's  come  on.     Is't  a  laddie  }  " 

"  It's  far  better,  laird ! "  said  Jenny  trium- 
phantly. 

"Is't  twins?"  exclaimed  the  laird,  sympathis- 
ing with  her  exultation. 

"A  half-crown,  a  half-crown,  laird,"  was,  how- 
ever, all  the  satisfaction  he  received.  "  Down  wi' 
the  dust." 

"An  t'ou's  sae  on  thy  peremptors,  I  fancy  I 

1  Ware.     To  expend. 
VOL.   I.  R 


258 


THE  ENTAIL 


maun  comply.  There,  take  it,  and  welcome/' 
said  he,  pulling  the  money  from  under  the  flap 
of  his  waistcoat-pocket ;  while  Jenny,  stretching 
her  arm  as  she  hoisted  it  from  under  the  cloak, 
eagerly  bent  forward  and  took  the  silver  out  of 
his  hand,  instantaneously  affecting  the  greatest 
gravity  of  face. 

"  Laird,"  said  she,  "  ye  maunna  be  angry  wi' 
me ;  but  I  didna  like  just  to  dumbfoun'er  you 
a'  at  ance  wi'  the  news.  My  mistress,  it's  very 
true,  has  been  brought  to  bed,  but  it's  no  as  ye 
expeckit." 

^^Then  it's  but  a  dochter.^"  replied  the  laird 
discontentedly. 

"No,  sir,  it's  no  a  dochter.  It's  twa  dochters, 
sir !  "  exclaimed  Jenny,  scarcely  able  to  repress 
her  risibility,  while  she  endeavoured  to  assume 
an  accent  of  condolence. 

Claud  sank  back  in  his  chair,  and  drooping  his 
head,  gave  a  deep  sigh. 

"But,"  rejoined  the  adroit  Jenny,  "it's  a  good 
earnest  of  a  braw  family  ;  so  keep  up  your  heart, 
laird,  aiblins  the  neist  birds  may  be  a'  cocks. 
There  ne'er  was  a  goose  without  a  gander." 

"  Gae  but  the  house,  and  fashna  me  wi'  thy 
clishmaclavers.  I  say,  gae  but  the  house,"  cried 
the  laird,  in  a  tone  so  deep  and  strong  that 
Jenny's  disposition  to  gossip  was  most  effectually 
daunted,  and  she  immediately  retired. 

For  some  time  after  she  had  left  the  room 
Qaud  continued  sitting  in  the  same  posture  with 


THE  ENTAIL 


259 


itd  the  laird 


which  he  had  uttered  the  command,  leaning 
slightly  forward,  and  holding  the  arms  of  the 
easy-chair  graspingly  by  both  his  hands,  as  if  in 
the  act  of  raising  himself  Gradually,  ho^vever,  he 
relaxed  his  hold,  and  subsided  slowly  and  heavily 
into  the  position  in  which  he  usually  fell  asleep. 
Shutting  his  eyes,  he  remained  in  that  state  for 
a  considerable  time,  exhibiting  no  external  in- 
dication of  the  rush  of  mortified  feelings  v/hich, 
like  a  subterranean  stream  of  some  acrid  mineral, 
struggled  through  all  the  abysses  of  his  bosom. 

This  last  stroke — the  birth  of  twin  daughters — 
seemed  to  perfect  the  signs  and  omens  of  that  dis- 
pleasure with  which  he  had  for  some  time  thought 
the  disinheritance  of  his  first-born  was  regarded  ; 
and  there  was  undoubtedly  something  sublime  in 
the  fortitude  with  which  he  endured  the  gnaw- 
ings  of  remorse.  It  may  be  impossible  to  consider 
the  course  of  his  sordid  ambition  without  indig- 
nation ;  but  the  strength  of  character  which  en- 
abled him  to  contend  at  once  with  his  paternal 
partiality  and  stand  firm  in  his  injustice  before 
what  he  awfully  deemed  the  frowns  and  the 
menaces  of  Heaven  foi^ms  a  spectacle  of  moral 
bravery  that  cannot  be  contemplated  without 
emotions  of  wonder  mingled  with  dread. 


CHAPTER   XLIJ 

JL  HE  fall'icious  symptoms  in  the  progress  of 
Charles's  malady  which  had  deceived  his  wife 
and  mother  assumed  on  the  third  day  the  most 
alarming  appearance.  Mr  Keelevin,  who,  from 
the  interview,  had  taken  an  uncommon  interest 
in  his  situation,  did  not,  however,  hear  of  his 
illness  till  the  doctors,  from  the  firmest  persuasion 
that  he  could  not  survive,  had  expressed  some 
doubts  of  his  recovery ;  but  from  that  time  the 
inquiries  of  the  honest  lawyer  were  frequent, 
and,  notwithstanding  what  had  passed  on  the 
former  occasion,  he  resolved  to  make  another 
attempt  on  the  sympathies  of  the  father.  For  this 
purpose,  on  the  morning  of  the  fifth  day,  which 
happened  to  be  Sunday,  he  called  at  Charles's 
house  to  inquire  how  he  was,  previous  to  the 
visit  which  he  intended  to  pay  to  Grippy ;  but 
the  servant  who  attended  the  door  was  in  tears, 
and  told  him  that  her  master  was  in  the  last 
struggles  of  life. 

Any  other  general  acquaintance,  on  receiving 
such  intelligence,  however  deeply  he  might  have 
felt  affected,  would  have  retired  ;  but  the  ardent 

260 


r 


progress  of 
ved  his  wife 
day  the  most 
1,  ^\\o,   from 
imon  interest 
,  hear  of  his 
est  persuasion 
pressed  some 
[hat  time  the 
ere   frequent, 
issed    on  the 
nake   another 
ther.  For  this 
1  day,  which 
at   Charles's 
evious  to   the 
Grippy;  but 
was  in  tears, 
in  the  last 


on  receiving 
e  might  have 
lit  the  ardent 


THE  ENTAIL 


i36l 


mind  and  simplicity  of  Mr  Keelevin  prompted 
him  to  act  differently,  and,  without  replying  to 
the  girl,  ho  softly  slipped  his  feet  from  his  shoes, 
and  stepping  gently  to  the  sick-chamber,  entered 
it  unobserved,  -so  much  were  those  around  the 
deathbed  occupied  with  the  scene  before  them. 

Isabella  was  sitting  at  the  bed-head,  holding 
her  dying  husband  by  both  the  hands,  and  bend- 
ing over  him  almost  as  insensible  as  himself. 
His  mother  was  sitting  near  the  foot  of  tlie  bed, 
with  a  phial  in  one  hand,  and  a  towel,  resting  on 
her  knee,  in  the  other,  looking  ove>*  her  left 
shoulder  towards  her  son,  with  an  eager  coun- 
tenance, in  which  curiosity,  and  alarm,  and  pity 
were,  in  rapid  succession,  strangely  and  vacantly 
expressed.  At;  the  foot  of  the  bed,  the  curtains 
of  which  were  drawn  aside,  the  two  little  chil- 
dren stood  wondering  in  solemn  innocence  at  the 
mournful  mystery  which  nature  was  performing 
with  their  father.  Mr  Keelevin  was  moved  by 
their  helpless  astonishment  even  more  than  by 
the  sight  of  the  last  and  lessening  heavings  and 
pantings  of  his  dying  friend ;  and,  melted  to 
tears,  he  withdrew,  and  wept  behind  the  door. 

In  the  course  of  three  or  four  minutes  a  rustle 
in  the  chc^mber  roused  him ;  and  on  looking 
round,  he  saw  Isabella  standing  on  the  floor,  and 
her  mother-in-law,  who  had  dropped  the  phial, 
sitting,  with  a  look  of  horror,  holding  up  her 
hand,  which  quivered  with  agitation.  He  stepped 
forward,  and  giving  a  momentary  glance  at  the 


Of  Jo 


THE  ENTAIL 


i.l 


bed,  sjiw  tliat  all  was  over ;  but,  before  he  could 
turn  round  to  address  himself  to  the  ladies,  the 
children  uttered  a  shrill  piercin<]j  shriek  of  terror, 
and  running  to  their  mother,  hid  their  little  faces  in 
her  dress  and  clasped  her  fearfully  in  their  arms. 

For  some  minutes  he  was  overcome.  The 
young,  the  beautiful,  the  defenceless  widow  was 
the  first  that  recovered  her  self-possession  A 
flood  of  tears  relieved  her  heart ;  and  bending 
down  and  folding  her  arms  round  her  orphans, 
she  knelt,  and  said,  with  an  upward  look  of 
supplication,  "God  will  protect  you." 

Mr  Keelevin  was  still  unable  to  trust  himself 
to  say  a  word ;  but  he  approached,  and,  gently 
assisting  her  to  rise,  led  her  with  the  children 
into  the  parlour,  where  old  Lady  Plealands  was 
sitting  alone,  with  a  large  psalm-book  in  her 
hand.  Her  spectacles  lying  on  a  table  in  the 
middle  of  tlie  room  showed  that  she  had  been 
unable  to  read. 

He  then  returned  to  bring  Leddy  Grippy  also 
away  from  the  body  ;  but  met  her  in  the  passage. 
We  dare  not  venture  to  repeat  what  she  said  to 
him,  for  she  was  a  mother ;  but  the  result  was 
a  request  from  her  that  he  would  undertake  to 
communicate  the  intelligence  to  her  husband, 
and  to  beg  him  either  to  cc^rae  to  her  in  the 
course  of  the  day  or  to  send  her  some  money  : 
"For,"  said  she,  "this  is  a  bare  house,  Mr 
Keelevin ;  and  Heaven  only  knows  what's  to 
become  o'  the  wee  orphans." 


ire  he  could 

'  ladies,  the 

vk  of  terror, 

little  faces  in 

their  arms. 

come.      The 

5  widow  was 

(ssession      A 

and  bending 

her  orphans, 

ard   look   of 
>» 

trust  himself 
and,  gently 
the  children 
*lealands  was 
book  in  her 
table  in  the 
be   had  been 

f  Grippy  also 
the  passage, 
she  said  to 
le  result  was 
undertake  to 
ler  husband, 
o  her  in  the 
ome  money : 
house,  Mr 
7S    what's   to 


TlIK  ENTAIL 


'26ii 


The  kim^-hearted  lawyer,  however,  needed  no 
argument  to  spur  him  on  to  do  all  that  ne  could 
in  such  a  time,  and  in  such  circumstances,  to 
lighten  the  distress  and  misery  of  a  family  whose 
necessities  he  so  well  knew.  On  (piitting  the 
house  he  proceeded  immediately  towards  Cirippy, 
ruminating  on  the  scene  he  had  witnessed,  and 
on  the  sorrows  which  he  foresaw  the  desolate 
widow  and  her  children  were  destined  to  suffer. 

The  weather  for  some  days  before  liad  been 
unsettled  and  boisterous ;  but  that  morning  it 
was  uncommonly  fine  for  the  advanced  state  of 
the  season.  Everything  was  calm  and  in  repose, 
as  if  Nature  herself  had  hallowed  the  Sabbath. 
Mr  Keelevin  walked  thoughtfully  along,  the  grief 
of  his  reflections  being  gradually  subdued  by  the 
benevolence  of  his  intentions ;  but  he  was  a  man 
wcT  stricken  in  years,  and  the  agitation  he  had 
undergone  made  the  way  appear  to  him  so  long 
that  he  felt  himself  tired,  insomuch  that,  when 
he  came  to  the  bottom  of  the  lane  which  led  to 
Kilmarkeckle,  he  sat  down  to  rest  himself  on  the 
old  dyke  where  Claud  himself  had  sat,  on  his 
return  from  the  town,  after  executing  the  fatal 
entail.  Absorbed  in  the  reflections  to  which  the 
event  of  the  morning  naturally  gave  rise,  he 
leaned  for  some  time  pensively  forward,  support- 
ing his  head  on  his  hand,  insensible  to  every 
object  around,  till  he  was  roused  by  the  cooing 
of  a  pigeon  in  the  field  behind  him.  The  softness 
and  the  affectionate  sound  of  its  tones  comforted 


264 


THE  ENTAIL 


his  spirits  as  he  thought  of  his  client's  harsli 
temper,  .'lud  he  raised  liis  eyes  and  looked  on  the 
beautiful  tranquillity  of  the  landsca{)e  before  him 
with  a  sensation  of  freshness  and  pleasure  that 
restored  him  to  confidence  in  the  charity  of  his 
intentions.  The  waters  of  the  river  were  glanc- 
ing to  the  cloudless  morning  sun ;  a  clear  bright 
cheerfulness  dwelt  on  the  foreheadii  of  the  distant 
hills ;  the  verdure  of  the  nearer  fields  seemed  to 
be  gladdened  by  the  presence  of  spring,  and  a 
band  of  little  schoolboys,  in  their  Sunday  clothes, 
playing  with  a  large  dog  on  the  opposite  bank  of 
the  river,  was  in  unison  with  the  general  bene- 
Tolence  which  smiled  and  breathed  around,  but 
was  liveliest  in  his  own  heart. 


CHAPTER    XLIII 

A.  HE  benevolent  lawyer  found  the  old  man  in 
his  accustomed  seat  by  the  fireside.  Walter  was 
in  the  room  with  him,  dressed  for  church  and 
dandling  his  child.  At  first  Mr  Keelevin  felt  a 
little  embarrassment,  not  being  exactly  aware  in 
what  manner  the  news  he  had  to  communicate 
might  be  received;  but  seeing  how  Walter  was 
engaged,  he  took  occasion  to  commend  his 
parental  affection. 

"That's  acting  like  a  father,  Mr  Walter,"  said  he; 
"  for  a  kind  parent  innocently  pleasuring  his  bairn 
is  a  sight  that  the  very  angels  are  proud  to  look  on. 
Mak  muckle  o'  the  poor  wee  thing,  for  nobody  can 
tell  how  long  she  may  be  spared  to  you.  I  dare 
say,  Mr  Walkinshaw,"  he  added,  addressing  him- 
self to  Claud,  "ye  hae  mony  a  time  been  happy 
in  the  same  manner  wi'  your  own  children  ?  " 

"I  had  something  else  to  tak  up  my  mind,"  re- 
plied the  old  man  gruffly,  not  altogether  pleased 
to  see  the  lawyer,  and  apprehensive  of  some  new 
animadversions. 

"  Nae  doubt,  yours  has  been  an  eydent  ^  and 

^  Eydefiit.     Industrious. 
265 


266 


THE  ENTAIL 


industrious  life,"  said  Mr  Keelevin,  "  and  hitherto 
it  hasna  been  without  a  large  share  o'  comfort. 
Ye  canna,  however,  expeck  a  greater  constancy 
in  fortune  and  the  favour  o'  Providence  than  falls 
to  the  common  lot  of  man  ;  and  ye  maun  lay  your 
account  to  meet  wi'  troubles  and  sorrows  as  weel 
as  your  neighbours." 

This  was  intended  by  the  speaker  as  a  prelude 
to  the  tidings  he  had  brought,  and  was  said  in  a 
mild  and  sympathetic  manner ;  but  the  heart  of 
Claud,  galled  and  skinless  by  the  corrosion  of  his 
own  thoughts,  felt  it  as  a  reproach,  and  he  inter- 
rupted him  shar})ly — 

"What  ken  ye,  Mr  Keelevin,  either  o'  my 
truxnps  or  my  troubles  ? "  And  he  subjoined,  in  his 
austerest  and  most  emphatic  manner,  "  The  inner 
man  alone  knows  whether,  in  the  gifts  o'  fortune, 
he  has  gotten  gude  or  but  only  gowd.  Mr  Kee- 
levin, I  hae  lived  long  eneugh  to  mak  an  observe 
on  prosperity, — the  whilk  is  that  the  doited  and 
heedless  world  is  very  ready  to  mistak  the  smother- 
ing growth  of  the  ivy  on  a  doddered  ^  stem  for  the 
green  boughs  o'  a  sound  and  flourishing  tree." 

To  which  Walter  added  singingly,  as  he  swung 
his  child  by  the  arms, — 

"  Near  planted  by  a  river, 
Which  in  his  season  yields  his  fruit, 
And  his  leaf  fadeth  never." 


(( 


But  no  to  enter  upon  any   controversy,  Mr 

^  Doddered.    Decaying. 


and  hitherto 
;  o'  comfort, 
er  constancy 
ice  than  falls 
laun  lay  your 
TOWS  as  weel 

as  a  prelude 
was  said  in  a 

the  heart  of 
rrosion  of  his 
md  he  inter- 

gither  o'  my 
bjoined,  in  his 
r,  "  The  inner 
fts  o'  fortune, 
;^d.  Mr  Kee- 
an  observe 
le  doited  and 
the  smother- 
stem  for  the 
ing  tree." 
as  he  swung 


THE   ENTAIL 


267 


ruit, 


itroversy,  Mr 


Walkinshaw/'  said  Mr  Keelevin — "ye'll  no  hae 
heard  the  day  how  your  son  Charles  is  ?  " 

"No/'  replied  Claud,  with  a  peculiarly  impres- 
sive accent ;  ''  but,  at  the  latest  last  night,  the 
gudewife  sent  word  he  w      very  ill." 

"  I'm  greatly  concerned  about  him,"  resumed 
the  lawyer,  scarcely  aware  of  the  address  with 
wliich,  in  his  simplicity,  he  was  moving  on  to- 
wards the  fatal  communication ;  "  I  am  greatly 
concerned  about  him,  but  mair  for  his  young 
children — they'll  be  very  helpless  orphans,  Mr 
Walkinshaw." 

"  I  ken  that,"  was  the  stern  answer,  uttered 
with  such  a  dark  and  troubled  look  that  it  quite 
daunted  Mr  Keelevin  at  the  moment  from  pro- 
ceeding. 

"  Ye  ken  that ! "  cried  Walter,  pausing,  and 
setting  down  the  child  on  the  floor,  and  seat- 
ing himself  beside  it.  "How  do  ye  ken  that, 
father  ?  " 

The  old  man  eyed  him  for  a  moment  with  a 
fierce  and  strong  aversion,  and,  turning  to  Mr 
Keelevin,  shook  his  head,  but  said  nothing. 

"What's  done  is  done,  and  canna  be  helped," 
resumed  the  lawyer ;  "  but  reparation  may  yet, 
by  some  sma'  cost  and  cooking,  be  made ;  and 
I  hope  Mr  Walkinshaw,  considering  what  has 
happened,  ye' 11  do  your  duty." 

"  I'll  sign  nae  papers,"  interposed  Walter  ;  "  I'll 
do  nothing  to  wrang  my  wee  Betty  Bodle," — and 
he  fondly  kissed  the  child. 


268 


THE  ENTAIL 


Mr  Keelevin  looked  compassionately  at  the 
natural,  and  then  turning  to  his  father,  said — 

"  I  hae  been  this  morning  to  see  Mr  Charles." 

"  Weel,  and  how  is  he  ?  "  exclaimed  the  father 
eagerly. 

The  lawyer,  for  about  the  term  of  a  minute, 
made  no  reply ;  but  looked  at  him  steadily  in 
the  face,  and  then  added  solemnly,  "  He's  no 
more ! " 

At  first  the  news  seemed  to  produce  scarcely 
any  effect :  the  iron  countenance  of  the  old  man 
underwent  no  immediate  change  :  he  only  re- 
mained immovable  in  the  position  in  which  he 
had  received  the  shock ;  but  presently  Mr  Keele- 
vin saw  that  he  did  not  fetch  Lis  breath,  and  that 
his  lips  began  to  contract  asunder,  and  to  expose 
his  yellow  teeth  with  the  grin  almost  of  a  skull. 

"  Heavens  preserve  us,  Mr  Walkinshaw ! " 
cried  Mr  Keelevin,  rising  to  his  assistance  ;  but, 
in  the  same  moment,  the  old  man  uttered  a 
groan  so  deep  and  dreadful,  so  strange  and  super- 
human, that  Walter  snatched  up  his  child  and 
rushed  in  terror  out  of  the  room.  After  this 
earthquake-struggle  he  in  some  degree  recovered 
himself,  and  the  lawyer  returned  to  his  chair, 
where  he  remained  some  time  silent. 

"  I  had  a  fear  o't,  but  I  wasna  prepar't,  Mr 
Keelevin,  for  this,"  said  the  miserable  father; 
''and  noo  I'll  kick  against  the  pricks  nae  langer. 
Wonderful  God !  I  bend  my  aged  grey  head  at 
Thy  footstool.     Oh,  lay  not  Thy  hand  heavier  upon 


THE  ENTAIL 


269 


iitely   at    the 
er,  said — 
^r  Charles." 
ed  the  father 

of  a  minute, 
n  steadily  in 
y,   "  He's  no 

duce  scarcely 
the  old  man 
he    only  re- 
in which  he 
tly  Mr  Keele- 
eath,  and  that 
and  to  expose 
it  of  a  skull. 
V^alkinshaw !  " 
sistance  ;  but, 
lan  uttered  a 
ige  and  super- 
his    child  and 
After  this 
ree  recovered 
to  his  chair, 

prepar't,  Mr 
rable  father; 
ks  nae  langer. 
grey  head  at 
I  heavier  upon 


me  than  I  am  able  to  bear  !  Mr  Keelevin,  ye 
ance  said  the  entail  could  be  broken  if  I  were  to 
die  insolvent :  mak  me  sae  in  the  name  of  the 
God  I  have  dared  so  long  to  fight  against.  An' 
Charlie's  dead — murdered  by  my  devices  !  Weel 
do  I  mind,  when  he  was  a  playing  bairn,  that  I  first 
kent  the  blessing  of  what  it  is  to  hae  something 
to  be  kind  to ;  aften  and  aften  did  his  glad  and 
bright  young  face  thaw  the  frost  that  had  bound 
up  my  heart ;  but  aye  something  new  o'  the 
world's  pride  and  trash  cam  in  between,  and 
harden't  it  mair  and  mair.  But  a's  done  noo, 
Mr  Keelevin — the  fight's  done  and  the  battle 
won,  and  the  avenging  God  of  righteousness  and 
judgment  is  victorious." 

Mr  Keelevin  sat  in  silent  astonishment  at  this 
violence  of  sorrow.  He  had  no  previous  con- 
ception of  that  vast  abyss  of  sensibility  which  lay 
hidden  and  unknown  within  the  impenetrable 
granite  of  the  old  man's  pride  and  avarice ;  and 
he  was  amazed  and  overawed  when  he  beheld 
it  burst  forth,  as  when  the  fountains  of  the  great 
deep  were  broken  up  and  the  deluge  swept  away 
the  earliest  and  the  oldest  iniquities  of  man. 

The  immediate  effect,  when  he  began  to  re- 
cover from  his  wonder,  was  a  sentiment  of  pro- 
found reverence. 

"  Mr  Walkinshaw,"  said  he,  ^^  I  have  long  done 
you  great  injustice;" — and  he  Wfis  proceeding 
to  say  something  more  as  an  apology,  but  Claud 
interrupted  iiim. 


S70 


THE  ENTAIL 


"  You  hae  ne'er  done  me  any  manner  of  wrong, 
Mr  Keelevin ;  but  I  hae  sinned  greatly  and  Ian*;* 
against  my  ain  nature,  and  it's  time  I  sou'd  repent. 
In  a  few  sorrowful  days  I  maun  follow  the  lamb 
I  hae  sacrificed  on  the  altars  o'  pride  ;  speed  a' 
ye  dow  to  mak  the  little  way  I  hae  to  gang  to 
the  grave  easy  to  one  that  travels  wi'  a  broken 
heart.  I  gie  you  nae  further  instructions — your 
skill  and  honest  conscience  will  tell  you  what  is 
needful  to  be  done ;  and  wlien  the  paper's  made 
out,  come  to  me.  For  the  present  leave  me,  and 
in  your  way  hame  bid  Dr  Denholm  come  hither 
in  the  afternoon." 

"  I  think,  Mr  Walkinshaw,"  replied  Mr  Keele- 
vin, fallin/^  into  his  professional  manner  on  receiv- 
ing these  orders,  "  that  it  would  be  as  weel  for 
me  to  come  back  the  morn,  when  ye're  more 
composed,  to  get  the  particulars  of  what  ye  wish 
done." 

"  Oh,  man  ! "  exclaimed  the  hoary  penitent,  "ye 
ken  little  o'  me.  Frae  the  very  dawn  o'  life  I 
hae  done  nothing  but  big  and  build  an'  idolatrous 
image ;  and  when  it  was  finished,  ye  saw  how  I 
laid  my  first-born  on  its  burning  and  brazen 
altar.  But  ye  never  saw  what  I  saw :  the  face 
of  an  angry  God  looking  constantly  from  behind 
a  cloud  that  darkened  a'  the  world  like  the 
shadow  of  death  to  me ;  and  ye  canna  feel  what 
I  feel  now  when  His  dreadful  right  hand  has 
smashed  my  idol  into  dust.  I  hae  nae  langer 
part,  interest,  nor  portion  in  the  concerns  of  this 


er  of  wrong, 
tly  and  Ian;- 
ou'd  repent. 
>w  the  lamb 
ie  ;  speed  a' 
to  gang  to 
71  a  broken 
ctions — your 
you  what  is 
laper's  made 
;ave  me,  and 
come  hither 

d  Mr  Keele- 
er  on  receiv- 
;  as  weel  for 
ye're  more 
vhat  ye  wish 

enitent,  "ye 
wn  o*  Hfe  I 
n'  idolatrous 

saw  how  I 
and  brazen 
w :  the  face 
Tom  behind 
d  like  the 
na  feel  what 
it  hand  has 

nae  langer 
:ems  of  this 


THE  ENTAIL 


271 


life ;  but  only  to  sign  ony  paper  that  ye  can 
devise  to  restore  their  rights  to  the  twa  babies 
that  my  idolatry  has  made  fatherless." 

"  I  hope,  in  mercy,  Mr  Walkinshaw,  that  ye'U 
be  comforted,"  said  the  worthy  lawyer,  deeply 
affected  by  his  vehemence. 

"  I  hope  so  too ;  but  I  seena  whar  at  present 
it's  to  come  frae,"  replied  Claud,  bursting  into 
tears  and  weeping  bitterly.  "  But,"  he  added, 
"I  would  fain,  Mr  Keelevin,  be  left  to  mysel' 
— alack  !  alack !  I  hae  been  ouer  lang  left  to 
mysel'.  Howsever,  gang  away  the  day,  and 
remember  Dr  Denholm  as  ye  pass;  —  but  I'll 
ne'er  hae  peace  o'  mind  till  the  paper's  made 
and  signed ;  so,  as  a  Christian,  I  beg  you  to 
make  haste,  for  it  will  be  a  Samaritan's  act  of 
charity." 

Mr  Keelevin  perceived  that  it  was  of  no  use 
at  that  time  to  offer  any  further  consolation, 
and  accordingly  he  withdrew. 


CHAPTER   XLIV 


JJURING  the  remainder  of  the  day,  alter  Mr 
Keelevin  had  left  him,  Claud  continued  to  sit 
alone,  and  took  no  heed  of  anything  that 
occurred  around  him.  Dinner  was  placed  on  the 
table  at  the  usual  hour ;  but  he  did  not  join 
Walter. 

"  I  won'er,  father,"  said  the  natural  as  he  was 

hewing  at  the  joint,  "that  ye're  no  for  ony  dinner 

the  day ;  for,  ye  ken,  ii  a'  the  folk  in  the  world 

were  to  die  but  only  ae  man,  it  would  behove 

iiat  man  to  hae  his  dinner." 

To  this  sage  observation  the  grey-haired  peni- 
tent made  no  reply ;  and  Walter  finished  his 
meal  without  attempting  to  draw  him  again  into 
conversation. 

In  the  afternoon  Claud  left  his  elbow-chair,  and 
walked  slowly  and  heavily  up  the  path  which  led 
to  the  bench  he  had  constructed  on  the  rising 
ground,  where  he  was  so  often  in  the  practice  of 
contemplating  the  lands  of  his  forefathers ;  and 
on  gaining  the  brow  of  the  hill  he  halted,  and 
once  more  surveyed  the  scene.  For  a  moment  it 
would  seem  that  a  glow  of  satisfaction    passed 

272 


THE  ENTAIL 


273 


'i 


Mr 


ay,  alter 
:inued  to  sit 
lything  that 
placed  on  the 
did    not  join 

ral  as  he  was 

or  ony  dinner 

in  the  world 

^ould  behove 

-haired  peni- 
finished   his 
im  again  into 

ow-chair,  and 
th  which  led 
3n  the  rising 
e  practice  of 
ifathers  ;  and 
halted,  and 
a  moment  it 
etion    passed 


over  his  heart ;  but  it  was  only  a  hectical  flush, 
instantly  succeeded  by  the  nausea  of  moral  dis- 
gust, and  he  turned  abruptly  round,  and  seated 
himself  with  his  back  towards  the  view  which 
had  afforded  him  so  much  pleasure.  In  this 
situation  he  continued  some  time,  resting  his 
forehead  on  his  ivory-headed  staff,  and  with  his 
eyes  fixed  on  the  ground. 

In  t'  3  meantime,  Mr  Keelevin  having  called 
on  the  Heverend  Dr  Denholm,  according  to 
Claud's  wish,  to  request  he  would  visit  him  in 
the  afternoon,  the  venerable  minister  was  on  his 
way  to  Grippy.  On  reaching  the  house,  he  was 
informed  by  one  of  the  maid-servants  that  her 
master  had  walked  to  his  summer-seat  on  the 
hill,  whither  he  immediately  proceeded,  and  found 
the  old  1  'in  still  rapt  in  his  moody  and  mournful 
meditations. 

Claud  had  looked  up  as  he  heard  him  approach, 
and^  pointing  to  the  bench,  beckoned  him  to  be 
seated.  For  some  time  they  sat  together  without 
speaking,  the  minister  appearing  to  wait  in  ex- 
pectation that  the  penitent  would  address  him 
first ;  but  observing  him  still  disposed  to  continue 
silent,  he  at  last  said — 

"  Ml  Keelevin  told  me,  Mr  Walkinshaw,  that 
ye  wished  to  see  me  under  this  dispensation  with 
which  the  hand  o'  a  righteous  Providence  has 
visited  your  family." 

*'  I'm  greatly  obligated  to  Mr  Keelevin,"  replied 
Claud  thoughtfully;  '^he's  a  frien'ly  and  a  very 

VOL.  I.  s 


274. 


THE  ENTAIL 


lonest  man.  It  would  liae  been  happy  vri'  me 
the  day,  Dr  Denhohn,  had  I  put  mair  confidence 
in  liim ;  but  I  dout,  I  doot,  I  hae  been  a'  my  Hfe 
a  sore  hypocrite." 

'' 1  was  aye  o'  that  notion,"  said  the  reverend 
doctor,  not  quite  sure  whether  the  contrition  so 
humbly  expressed  was  sincere  or  affected  ;  but 
the  meek  look  of  resignation  with  which  the 
desolate  old  man  replied  to  the  cutting  sarcasm 
moved  the  very  heart  of  the  chastisv'^r  with  strong 
emotions  of  sympathy  and  grief;  and  he  added, 
in  his  kindliest  manner — 

"  But  I  hope,  Mr  Walkinshaw,  that  I  may  say 
to  you,  '  Brother,  be  of  good  cheer ; '  for  if  this 
stroke,  by  which  your  first-born  is  cut  off  frcm 
the  inheritance  of  the  years  that  were  in  the 
promise  of  his  winsome  youth,  is  ta'en  and  borne 
as  the  admonition  of  the  vanity  of  setting  your 
heart  on  the  thin  .^s  of  carnal  life,  it  will  prove  to 
you  a  great  blessing  for  evermore." 

There  was  something  in  the  words  in  which 
this  was  couched  that,  still  more  painfully  than 
the  taunt,  affected  the  disconsolate  penitent,  and 
he  burst  into  tears,  taking  hold  of  the  minister's 
right  hand  graspingly  with  his  left,  saying,  "  Spare 
me,  doctor !  Oh,  spare  me,  an'  it  be  possible  ! — 
for  the  worm  that  never  dieth  hath  coiled  itsel' 
within  my  bosom,  and  the  fire  that's  never 
quenched  is  kindled  arourl  me.  What  an*  it  be 
for  ever?" 

"Ye    shouldna,   Mr  Walkinshaw," 


THE  RNTAIL 


275 


cappy  v'l  me 
lir  confiilence 
3en  a'  my  life 

the  reverend 
contrition  so 
affected  ;  but 
h  Avhich  the 
tting  sarcasm 
r  with  strong 
nd  he  added, 

lat   I  may  say 

• ; '  for  if  this 

cut  off  frcni 

were    in    the 

en  and  borne 

setting  your 

will  prove  to 

rds    in  which 

lainfully  than 

)enitent,  and 

he  minister's 

nng,  "  Spare 

e  possible  ! — 

coiled  itsel' 

that's    never 

hat  an'  it  be 

replied   the 


^y 


clergyman,  awed  by  the  energy  and  solemnity 
of  his  manner,  *^  Ye  shouidna  entertain  such 
desperate  thouglits,  but  h()j)e  for  better  things; 
for  it'^  a  blithe  thing  for  your  precious  soul  to  be 
ac  last  sensible  o'  vour  own  unworthiness." 

''Ay,  doctor;  but  alack  for  me!  I  was  aye 
sensible  o'  that.  I  hae  sinned  wi'  my  een  open  ; 
and  I  thought  to  mak  up  for't  by  a  strict  observ- 
ance o'  church  ordinances." 

'''Deed,  Mr  Walkinshaw,  there  are  few  shortt'r 
roads  to  the  pit  than  through  the  kirk-door  ;  and 
many  a  Christian  has  been  brought  nigh  to  the 
death,  thinking  himsel'  cheered  and  guided  by 
the  sound  o'  gospel-preaching,  when,  a'  the  time, 
his  car  was  turned  to  the  sough  ^  o'  perdition." 

"  What  shall  I  do  to  be  saved  ? "  said  the  old 
man,  reverentially  and  timidly. 

"Ye  can  do  naething  yoursel',  Mr  Walkin- 
shaw," replied  the  minister ;  and  he  proceeded, 
with  the  fearlessness  of  a  champion  and  the  energy 
of  an  apostle,  to  make  manifest  to  his  under- 
standing the  corruption  of  the  human  heart,  and 
its  utter  unworthiness  in  the  pure  eyes  of  Him 
who  alone  can  wash  away  the  Ethiopian  hue  of 
original  sin  and  eradicate  the  leopard  spots  of 
personal  guilt. 

While  he  spoke,  the  bosom  of  Claud  was  con- 
vulsed, he  breathed  deeply  and  fearfully,  his 
eyes  glared,  and  the  manner  in  which  he  held 
his  hands,  trembling  and  slightly  raised,  showed 

1  Sough.     A  sucking,  whistling  sound. 


27f) 


THE  ENTAIL 


tlijit  his  wliole  inward  being  was  transfixed,  as  it 
were,  with  a  liorriole  sense  of  some  tremendous 
a])ocaly|)se. 

"I  fear,  I  fear,  Dr  Dcnholm,"  he  exclaimed, 
"that  I  can  ^»"        o  hope!" 

The  vcneu^o.^  pastor  was  struck  witli  the 
desjjair  of  the  ex})ressi()n,  and,  after  a  short 
pause,  said,  "  Dinna  let  yoursel'  despond.  Tak 
comfort  in  the  mercy  of  God  :  surely  your  life 
hasna  been  blacken't  wi'  ony  great  crime  ? " 

"  It  has  been  one  continued  crime,"  cried  the 
penitent.  "  Frae  the  first  hour  that  my  remem- 
brance can  look  back  to,  down  to  the  very  last 
minute,  there  has  been  no  break  or  interruption 
in  the  constancy  of  my  iniquity.  I  sold  my 
soul  to  the  Evil  One  in  my  childhood,  that  I 
might  recover  the  inheritance  of  my  forebears. 
Oh,  the  pride  of  that  mystery  !  And  a'  the  time 
there  was  a  voice  within  me  that  wouldna  be 
pacified  wi'  the  vain  promises  I  made  to  become 
another  man  as  soon  as  ever  my  conquest  was 
complete." 

''I  see  but  in  that,"  said  the  pious  doctor,  in 
a  kind  and  consoling  manner,  "  I  see  but  in  a' 
that,  Mr  Walkinshaw,  an  inordinate  love  of  the 
world  ;  and  noo  that  ye' re  awakened  to  a  sense 
of  your  danger,  the  Comforter  will  soon  come. 
Ye  hae  aye  been  reputed  an  honest  man,  and 
no  deficient  in  your  moral  duties,  as  a  husband, 
a  parent,  a  master,  and  a  friend." 

Claud   clasped   his    hands   fervently   together, 


THE  ENTAIL 


277 


isfixed,  as  it 
tremendous 

2   exclaimed, 

ck  with  the 
Iter  a  short 
jspond.     Tak 

•ely  you^  ^^^^ 
t  crime  ?  " 
ne,"  cried  the 
it  my  remem- 

the  very  last 
ir  interruption 
'.  I  sold  my 
dhood,  that  1 

my  forebears. 

,d  a  the  time 
,t  wouldna  be 
lade  to  become 

conquest  was 

jious  doctor,  in 
see  but  in  a' 
:e  love  of  the 
led  to  a  sense 
111  soon  come, 
lest  man,  and 
las  a  husband, 

Intly   together, 


exclaimin<Tf,  "  O  God  !  Thou  hast  ever  seen  my 
hyj)ocrisy  !  I)r  Denhohn," — and  he  took  him 
firmly  by  the  liand, — '*  when  I  was  but  a  bairn  I 
kentna  what  it  was  to  iiae  the  innocence  o'  a 
young  heart.  I  used  to  hide  the  sma'  j)resents  of 
siller  I  got  frae  my  frien's,  even  when  Maudge 
Dobbie,  the  auld  kind  creature  that  brought  me 
up,  couldna  earn  a  sufficiency  for  our  scrim  pit 
meals ;  I  didna  gang  near  her  when  I  kent  she 
was  in  poortith  and  bedrid,  for  fear  my  heart 
would  relent,  and  gar  me  gie  her  something  out 
o'  the  gathering  I  was  making  for  the  redemption 
o'  this  vile  yird  (that  is  mair  grateful  than  nie, 
for  it  repays  with  its  fruits  the  care  o*  the  tiller). 
I  stifled  the  very  sense  o'  loving-kindness  within 
me  ;  and,  in  furtherance  of  my  wicked  avarice, 
I  married  a  woman — Heaven  may  forgie  the 
aversion  I  had  to  her,  but  my  own  nature  never 


can 


Dr  Denholm  held  up  his  hands,  .•  nd  con- 
templated in  silence  the  humbled  and  prostrate 
spirit  that  was  thus  proceeding  with  the  frightful 
confession  of  its  own  baseness  and  depravity. 

"  But,"  cried  the  penitent,  "  I  canna  hope  that 
ye're  able  to  thole  the  sight  that  I  would  lay 
open  in  the  inner  sepulchre  of  my  guilty  con- 
science— for  in  a'  my  rej):  obation  I  had  ever  the 
right  before  me,  when  I  deliberately  preferred 
the  wrang.  The  angel  of  the  Lord  ceased  not, 
by  night  or  bv  day,  to  warsle  for  me ;  but  I 
clung  to  Baal,  and  spurned  and  kicked  whenever 


278 


THE  ENTAIL 


1  . 


the  messenger  of  brightness  and  grace  tried  to 
tak  me  away." 

The  old  man  paused,  and  then  looking  towards 
the  minister,  who  still  continued  silent,  regarding 
him  with  C()ni})assionalc  amazement,  said — 

"  Doctor,  what  can  I  expect  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Mr  Walkinshaw !  but  ye  hae  been  a 
dure  sinner,"  was  the  simple  and  emphatic  reply  ; 
"  and  I  hope  that  this  sense  o'  the  evil  of  your 
way  is  an  admonition  to  a  repentance  that  may 
lead  you  into  the  right  road  at  last.  Be  ye, 
therefore,  thankful  for  the  warning  ye  hae  now 
gotten  of  the  power  and  the  displeasure  of  God." 

"  Many  a  warning,"  said  Claud,  "  in  tokens 
sairer  than  the  plagues  o'  Egypt,  which  but 
grieved  the  flesh,  hae  I  had  in  the  spirit ;  but 
still  my  heart  was  harden't  till  the  destroying 
angel  slew  my  first-born." 

'^ Still,  I  say,  b-  Tl:ankful,  Mr  Walkinshaw! 
Ye  hae  received  a  singui\c  manifestation  of  the 
goodness  of  God.  Your  s\»ii_,  we're  to  hope,  is 
removed  into  a  better  world.  lie's  exposed  no 
more  to  the  temptations  of  this  life ;  a'  care  wi' 
him  is  past,  a'  sorrow  is  taken  from  him.  It's  no 
misfortune  to  die,  but  a  great  risk  to  be  born ; 
and  nae  Christian  should  sorrow,  like  unto  those 
who  are  without  hope,  when  Death,  frae  ahint 
the  black  ye  It,  puts  forth  his  ancient  hand  and 
pulls  in  a  brother  or  a  sister  by  the  skirts  of  the 
garment  of  flesh.  'J'he  like  o'  that,  Mr  Walkin- 
tihaw,  is  naething ;  but  when,  by  the  removal  of  a 


ace  tried  to 

dwi  towards 
[it,  regarding 
said — 

hae    been    a 
phatic  reply  ; 

evil  of  your 
ice  that  may 
last.     Be   ye, 
p  ye  hae  now 
sure  of  God. 
I,  "  in  tokens 
t,    which    but 
lie  spirit;  but 
[le   destroying 

Walkinshaw  ! 
station  of  the 

to  hope,  is 
's  exposed  no 
fe  ;  a  care  wi' 
him.     It's  no 

to  be  born; 
ke  unto  those 
th,  frae  ahint 
ent  hand  and 

skirts  of  the 
it,  Mr  Walkin- 
,e  removal  of  a 


E-ai: 


lUi 


on  liis  krec- 


o 


>78 


li 


'•  of  bri^^htne^t'    .ind  }^rncc  tried  to 


:\WH\ 


n  p;tii'<-(l,  ami  tlicn  lookin;^  toward>^ 
.  r,  who  ^^11  coutinned  Micnt,  rc^s^ardii)}^' 
liiui  with  r-.':ntK}  rn  itna/cnifnt.  viid 

'^  !.)().  I  expect  f" 

.  ,haw  I    hut   ve    hae    been     -. 
hi-  simple  and  emphatic  replv 
.;i.iv  this  sen>c  o'   the    e\  il  of  yon r 
admonitioii   to  a  n-penlaiue  that  mi- 
li-ad    v«»u    iTito    the    ri^vlit  road   at    last.      f>c    y 
therefore,  thankful   ior  the   \vaniin«r  ye  luic  no>^ 
ootteii  of  the  ponor  and  the  displeasure  of  (iod.' 


dill' 


M 


mv 


a    warninir, 


sairer 


H 


I  an 


t)' 


stii] 


•ved   the   H' 


he? 


ujv 


sav 


lac  receive* 


Ye  I 
SToodness  o 


I 


vemov 


f  God.      \<- 
ed  intt)  a  lu'ttir   v 


lid    Claud,    '•■  in  tokei 
o'    KL'vpt,    \vhii-li    bu" 
!    liad   in  the  spirit;   bn; 
•irdeii't  till   the    destroyi);^^ 

,  Mr  Walkinshaw 
lanifestation  of  th' 
■'re  to  hope,  i 
ic's  exposed   ii 


*   1  ;  i  i  . 


niore  to  the  temptation--  of  this  life;  a'  care  w< 
])ini  is  past,  a'  sorrow  is  taken  from  him.  It'h  ;• 
misfortune  to  die,  but  a  i;reat  risk  to  he  born 
and  iiae  Christian  ,<ilio!ild  sorrow,  hke  unto  tho- 
who  are  with(mt  h"pf.  when  Death,  frac  ahi: 
th"   bhiek  yell,  ]>uts  ibrtlv  his  ancient  hand  an«' 


pi 


dls  in  a  brother  or  a 


i)V 


the  skirts  of  tli- 


ar 


ujent  of  iiesh,      'I  he   h.ke  o'   that,  iMr  Walk 


!!■ 


bna\\ 


nacum 


Ih 


111!'  when,  b\  tlic  removal  of 


ICC  tried  t<» 

An^  towarcU 
it.,  rcgardiiJj; 

}iae   been     » 
phatic  rc])l> 

evil  of  ynnr 
lluit  Ilia; 
ast.     lie    y. 

\c  liac  no\^ 
lire  of  God.' 
,   *'  ill  tokfi- 
,    -whieh    !>»:" 
ic   spirit;   bu 
destroyii'i' 

w  alkinsliaw 
,t.»tion  of  tl 
to   liope,   ; 

'X}K»StMl     11 

a'  care  wi 
iiin.      It's  :• 
(>  he  born 
•  >  unlo  tbo> 
frae    aliii: 
'.  band  am' 
;irts  of  U"' 
Mr  Walk- 
cnioval  o't    . 


> 


,V.^VlA'-l* 


FalliiiL^  (111  liis  kiiee>.  Lla->i>ed  liis  hands  tui^etlier. 


s 

s 


t 
t 

b 
t 

M 
f( 

t] 

T 

SI 

fc 

IK 


Ui 

lo 

fl( 

so 

d( 

er 


THE  ENTAIL 


279 


friend,  we  are  taught  to  see  the  error  of  our  way, 
it's  a  great  thing  for  us — it's  a  blithe  thing.  And, 
therefore,  I  say  unto  you  again,  Brotlicr,  be  of 
good  cheer,  for  in  this  temporal  death  of  your 
son,  maybe  the  Lord  has  been  pleased  to  bring 
about  your  own  salvation." 

"  And  what  may  be  the  token  whereby  I  may 
venture  to  take  comfort  frae  the  hope  ? " 

''There's  nae  surer  sign  gi'en  to  man  than  that 
token  :  when  ye  see  this  life  but  as  a  pilgrimage, 
then  ye  may  set  forward  in  your  way  rejoicing ; 
when  ye  behold  nothing  in  your  goods  and  gear 
but  trash  and  splendid  dirt,  then  may  ye  be  sure 
that  ye  hae  gotten  better  than  silver  or  gold ; 
when  ye  see  in  your  herds  and  flocks  but  fodder 
for  a  carnal  creature  like  the  beasLs  that  perish, 
then  shall  ye  eat  of  the  heavenly  manna ;  when 
ye  thirst  to  do  good,  then  shall  the  rock  be 
smitten,  and  the  waters  of  life,  flowing  forth,  will 
follow  you  wheresoever  you  travel  in  the  wilder- 
ness of  this  world." 

The  venerable  pastor  suddenly  paused,  for  at 
that  moment  Claud  laid  aside  his  hat,  and  falling 
on  his  knees,  clasped  his  hands  together,  and 
looking  towards  the  skies,  his  long  grey  hair 
flowing  over  his  back,  he  said  with  awful 
solemnity,  "  Father,  Thy  will  be  done  ! — in  the 
devastation  of  my  earthly  heart,  I  accept  the 
erles^  of  Thy  service." 

He  then  rose  with  a  serene  countenance,  as  if 
^  Erics.     Earnests. 


280 


THE  ENTAIL 


his  rigid  features  had  undergone  some  benignant 
transformation.  At  that  moment  a  distant  strain 
of  wild  and  holy  music,  rising  from  a  hundred 
voices,  drew  their  attention  towards  a  shaggy 
bank  of  natural  birch  and  hazel,  where,  on  the 
sloping  ground  in  front,  they  saw  a  number  of 
Cameronians,  from  Glasgow  and  the  neighbouring 
villages,  assembled  to  commemorate  in  worship 
the  persecutions  which  their  forefathers  had 
suffered  there  for  righteousness'  sake. 

After  listening  till  the  psalm  was  finished, 
Claud  and  Dr  Denholm  returned  towards  the 
house,  where  they  found  Leddy  Grippy  had 
arrived.  The  old  man,  in  order  to  avoid  any 
unnecessary  conversation,  proposed  that  the  ser- 
vants shoukl  be  called  in,  and  that  the  doctor 
should  pray — which  he  did  accordingly,  and  at 
the  conclusion  retired. 


le  benignant 
listant  strain 
n  a  hundred 
is  a  shaggy 
here,  on  the 
I  number  of 
neighbouring 
3  in  worship 
^fathers  had 
:e. 

v'as  finished, 
towards  the 
Grippy  had 
;o  avoid  any 
that  the  ser- 
t  the  doctor 
ngly,  and  at 


CHAPTER    XLV 

vJN  Monday  Claud  rose  early,  and,  without  wait- 
ing for  breakfast,  or  heeding  the  remonstrances 
of  his  wife  on  the  risk  he  ran  in  going  afield 
fasting,  walked  to  Glasgow,  and  went  directly  to 
the  house  of  his  mother-in-law,  the  aged  Leddy 
Plealands,  now  considerably  above  fourscore.  The 
natural  delicacy  of  her  constitution  had  received 
so  great  a  shock  from  the  death  of  Charles  that 
she  was  unable  that  morning  to  leave  her  room. 
Having,  however,  brought  home  with  her  th^ 
two  orphans  until  after  the  funeral,  their  grand- 
father found  them  playing  in  the  parlour,  and 
perhaps  he  was  better  pleased  to  meet  with  them 
than  had  she  been  there  herself 

Although  they  knew  him  perfectly,  yet  the 
cold  and  distant  intercourse  which  arose  from  his 
estrangement  towards  their  father  had  prevented 
them  from  being  on  those  terms  of  familiarity 
which  commonly  subsist  between  children  and 
their  grandfathers  ;  and  when  they  saw  him  enter 
the  room  they  immediately  left  their  toys  on  the 
floor,  and,  retiring  to  a  corner,  stood  looking  at 

him  timidly,  with  their  hands  behind. 

9»X 


282 


THE  ENTAIL 


The  old  mfin,  without  seeming  to  notice  their 
innocent  reverence,  walked  to  a  chair  near  the 
window  and  sat  down.  His  demeanour  was  as 
calm  and  his  features  as  sedate  as  usual,  but  his 
eyes  glittered  with  a  slight  sprinkling  of  tears, 
and  twice  or  thrice  he  pressed  his  elbows  into  his 
sides  as  if  to  restrain  some  inordinate  agitation  of 
the  heart.  In  the  course  of  a  few  minutes  he 
became  quite  master  of  himself,  and  looking  for 
a  short  time  compassionately  at  the  children,  in- 
vited them  to  come  to  him.  Mary,  the  girl,  who 
was  the  youngest,  obeyed  at  once  the  summons ; 
but  James,  the  boy,  still  kept  back. 

"What  for  wilt  t'ou  no  come  to  me  .''"  said  Claud. 

"  I'll  come  if  ye'll  no  b   rt  me,"  replied  the  child. 

"  Hurt  thee  !  What  for,  poor  thing,  should  I 
hurt  thee.''"  inquired  his  grandfather,  somewhat 
disturbed  by  the  proposed  condition. 

"I  dinna  ken,"  said  the  boy,  still  retreating; 
"but  I  am  fear't,  for  ye  hurt  papa  for  naething, 
and  mamma  used  to  greet  for't." 

Claud  shuddered,  and  in  the  spasmodic  effort 
which  he  made  to  suppress  his  emotion  he  un- 
consciously squeezed  the  little  hand  of  the  girl 
so  hardl)^,  as  he  held  her  between  his  knees,  that 
she  shrieked  with  the  pain,  and  flew  towards  her 
brother,  who,  equally  terrified,  ran  to  shelter  him- 
self behind  a  chair. 

For  some  time  the  old  man  was  so  much  affected 
that  he  felt  himself  incapable  of  speaking  to  them. 
But  he  said  to  himself — 


icli  affected 


THE  ENTAIL  283 

"  It  is  fit  that  I  should  enchirc  this.  I  sowed 
tares,  and  maunna  expcck  wheat." 

The  children,  not  finding  themselves  angrily 
pursued,  began  to  recover  courage,  and  again  to 
look  at  him. 

"  I  didna  mean  to  hurt  thee,  Mary,"  said  he 
after  a  short  interval.  "  Come,  and  we'll  mak 
it  up  ; "  and  turning  to  the  boy,  he  added,  "  I'm 
very  wae  that  e'er  I  did  ony  wrang  to  your  father, 
my  bonnie  laddie,  but  I'll  do  sae  nae  mair." 

"  That's  'cause  ye  canna  help  it,"  replied  James 
boldly ;  "  for  he's  dead — he's  in  a  soun'  soun'  sleep 
— nobody  but  an  angel  wi'  the  last  trumpet  at  his 
vera  lug  is  able  to  waken  him  ;  and  Mary  and  me, 
and  mamma — we're  a'  gaun  to  lie  down  and  die 
too,  for  there's  nobody  now  in  the  world  that 
cares  for  us." 

"I  care  for  you,  my  lambie,  and  I'll  be  kind  to 
you ;  I'll  be  as  kind  as  your  father." 

It  would  appear  that  these  words  had  been 
spoken  affectionately  ;  for  the  little  girl,  forgetful 
of  her  hurt,  returned,  and  placed  herself  between 
his  knees.     But  her  brother  still  stood  aloof 

"  Eat  will  ye  be  kind  to  mamma  ? "  said  the 
boy,  with  an  eager  and  suspicious  look. 

"That  I  will,"  was  the  answer.  "She'll  ne'er 
again  hae  to  blame  me,  nor  hae  reason  to  be 
sorrowful  on  my  account." 

"  But  werena  ye  ance  papa's  papa } "  rejoined 
the  child,  still  more  suspiciously. 

The  old  man  felt  the  full  force  of  all  that  was 


284 


THE  ENTAIL 


meant  by  these  simple  expressions,  and  he  drew 
his  hand  hastily  over  his  eyes  to  wipe  away  the 


rising  tears. 


(( 


And  will  ye  never  trust  me  ?  "  said  he  sorrow- 
fully to  the  child,  who,  melted  by  the  tone  in 
which  it  was  uttered,  advanced  two  or  three  steps 
towards  him. 

"  Ay,  if  ye'll  say  as  sure's  death  that  ye'll  no 
hurt  me." 

"  Then  I  do  say  as  sure's  death,"  exclaimed 
Claud  fervently,  and  held  out  his  hand,  which 
the  child,  running  forward,  caught  in  his,  and 
was  in  the  same  moment  folded  to  his  grand- 
father's bosom. 

Leddy  Plealands  had,  in  the  meantime,  been 
told  who  was  her  visitor,  and  being  anxious,  for 
many  reasons,  to  see  him  at  this  crisis,  opened 
the  door.  Feeble,  pale,  and  delicate,  the  vener- 
able gentlewoman  was  startled  at  seeing  a  sight 
she  so  little  expected,  and  stood  several  minutes 
with  the  door  in  her  hand  before  she  entered. 

"Come  in!"  said  Claud  to  her,  "come  in!  I 
hae  something  to  say  to  you  anent  thir  bairns. 
Something  maun  be  done  for  them  and  their 
mother;  and  I  would  fain  tak  counsel  wi*  you 
concernin't.  Bell  Fatherlans  is  ouer  frush  ^  a 
heart  to  thole  wi'  the  dinging  and  fyke  o'  our 
house,  or  I  would  tak  them  a'  hame  to  Grippy ; 
but  ye  maun  devise  some  method  wi'  her  to  mak 
their  loss  as  light  in  worldly  circumstances  as  my 

1  Frush.    Frail ;  brittle. 


THE  ENTAIL 


285 


md  he  drew 
pe  away  the 

d  he  sorrow- 
the  tone  in 
r  three  steps 

;hat  ye'll  no 

exclahned 

liand,   which 

in   his,   and 

)   his   grand- 

mtime,  been 

anxious,  for 

L'isis,  opened 

,  the  vener- 

eing  a  sight 

eval  minutes 

entered. 

come  in  !     I 

thir  bairns. 

1   and   their 

isel  wi'  you 

er   frush  ^  a 

fyke  o'  our 

to  Grippy ; 

her  to  mak 

ances  as  my 


means  will  alloc ;  and  whatsoever  you  and  her 
'gree  upon,  Mr  Keelevin  will  see  executed  baith 
by  deed  and  paction." 

"  Is't  possible  that  ye're  sincere,  Mr  Walkin- 
shaw.'*"  replied  the  old  lady. 

Claud  made  no  answer,  but  disconsolately  shook 
his  head. 

"This  is  a  mercy  past  hope,  if  ye're  really 
sincere." 

"I  am  sincere,"  said  the  stern  old  man 
severely ;  "  and  I  speak  wi'  humiliation  and  con- 
trition. I  hae  borne  the  rebuke  of  thir  babies, 
and  their  suspicion  has  spoken  sermons  of  re- 
proaches to  my  cowed  spirit  and  broken  heart." 

"  What  have  ye  done } "  inquired  the  lady, 
surprised  at  his  vehemence.  "  What  have  you 
done  to  make  you  speak  in  such  a  way,  Mr 
Walkinshaw  ?  " 

"  In  an  evil  hour  I  was  beguiled  by  the  Moloch 
o'  pride  and  ambition  to  disinherit  their  father, 
and  settle  a'  my  property  on  Watty,  because  he 
had  the  Plealands ;  but  from  that  hour  I  hae 
never  kent  what  comfort  is,  or  amaist  what  it 
is  to  hope  for  heavenly  mercy.  But  I  hae  lived 
to  see  my  sin,  and  I  yearn  to  mak  atonement. 
When's  that's  done,  I  trust  that  I  may  be  per- 
mitted to  lay  down  my  head  and  close  my  een 
in  peace." 

Mrs  Hypel  did  not  well  know  what  answer 
to  make.  The  disclosure  seemed  to  her  so  ex- 
traordinary that    she   looked  at  Claud  as  if  she 


286 


THE  ENTAIL 


m 


distrusted  what  she  heard,  or  was  disposed  to 
question  the  soundness  of  his  mind. 

"I  see,"  he  added,  "that,  like  the  orphans,  ye 
dinna  believe  me ;  but,  like  them,  Mrs  Hypel, 
ye'll  maybe  in  time  be  wrought  to  hae  compas- 
sion on  a  humbled  and  contrite  heart.  A',  there- 
fore, that  I  can  say  for  the  present  is  :  Consult 
wi'  Bell,  and  confer  wi'  Mr  Keelevin :  he  has 
full  power  frae  me  to  do  whatsoever  he  may 
think  just  and  right;  and  what  ye  do,  do  quickly, 
for  a  heavy  hand  is  on  my  shouther,  and  there's 
one  before  me  in  the  shape  o'  my  braw  Charlie 
that  waves  his  hand  and  beckons  me  to  follow 
him." 

Tlie  profound  despondency  with  which  this 
was  uttered  overwhelmed  the  feelings  of  the  old 
lady.  Even  the  children  were  affected,  and  dis- 
engaging themselves  from  his  arms,  retired  to- 
gether, and  looked  at  him  with  wonder  and  awe. 

"  Will  ye  go  and  see  their  mother }  "  said  the 
lady,  as  he  rose  and  was  moving  towards  the 
door.  He  halted,  and  for  a  few  seconds  appeared 
to  reflect ;  but  suddenly  looking  round,  he  replied, 
with  a  deep  and  troubled  voice, — 

"No.  I  hae  been  enabled  to  do  mair  than  I 
ever  thought  it  was  in  my  power  to  do ;  but  I 
canna  yet — no,  not  this  day — I  canna  yet  venture 
there.  I  will,  however,  by-and-by.  It's  a  penance 
I  maun  dree,i  and  I  will  go  through  it  a'." 

And  with  these  words  he  quitted  the  house, 
^  Dree.    Endure. 


disposed    to 

orplians,  ye 
Mrs   Hypel, 
lae  coinpas- 
A',  there- 
is  ;  Consult 
in :    he   has 
ver  he  may 
,  do  quickly, 
and  there's 
•raw  Charlie 
le  to  follow 

which  this 
;s  of  the  old 
id,  and  dis- 

retired  to- 
r  and  awe. 
?  "  said  the 
owards  the 
ds  appeared 
,  he  replied, 

nair  than  I 
►  do ;  but  I 
yet  venture 
's  a  penance 

a . 

the   house. 


THE  ENTAIL 


287 


leaving  the  old  gentlewoman  and  the  children 
equally  amazed,  and  incapable  of  comprehending 
the  depth  and  mystery  of  a  grief  which,  mournful 
as  the  immediate  cause  certain!  was,  undoubtedly 
partook  in  some  degree  of  religious  desj)air. 


CHAPTER    XLVI 

J  lETWEEN  the  interview  described  in  the  pre- 
ceding chapter  and  the  funeral  nothing  remark- 
able appeared  in  the  conduct  of  Claud.  On  the 
contrary,  those  habits  of  reserve  and  taciturnity 
into  which  he  had  fallen  from  the  date  of  the 
entail  were  apparently  renewed,  and,  to  the 
common  observation  of  the  general  eye,  he 
moved  and  acted  as  if  he  had  undergone  no 
inward  change.  The  domestics,  however,  began 
to  notice  that,  instead  of  the  sharp  and  con- 
temptuous manner  which  he  usually  employed 
in  addressing  himself  to  Walter,  his  voice  was 
modulated  with  an  accent  of  compassion,  and 
that,  on  the  third  day  after  the  death  of  Charles, 
he,  for  the  first  time,  caressed  and  fondled  the 
affectionate  natural's  darling,  Betty  Bodle. 

It  might  have  been  thought  that  this  simple 
little  incident  would  have  afforded  pleasure  to 
her  father,  who  happened  to  be  out  of  the  room 
when  the  old  man  took  her  up  in  his  arms ;  but 
so  far  from  this  being  the  case,  the  moment  that 
Waiter  returned  he  ran  towards  him  and  snatched 
tlie  child  away. 

288 


[ 

in  the  pre- 
ing  remark- 
ad.     On  the 
1  taciturnity 
date  of  the 
md,    to    the 
i-al    eye,    he 
idergone    no 
vevitr,  began 
p   and   con- 
y  employed 
is  voice  was 
passion,    and 
of  Charles, 
fondled  the 
odle. 
this  simple 
pleasure  to 
of  the  room 
s  arms ;  but 
[noment  that 
md  snatched 


TIIK   ENTAIL  28f) 

"  What  for  dost  t'ou  tak  the  bairn  frae  me  sac 
frightedly,  Watty  ?  "  said  Claud  in  a  mild  tone  of 
remonstrance,  entirely  different  from  anything  he 
had  ever  before  addressed  to  him. 

Walter,  however,  made  no  reply,  but  retiring 
to  a  distant  ])art  of  the  room,  carefully  inspected 
the  child,  and  frecpicntly  incpiired  \vhere  she  was 
hurt,  although  she  was  laughing  and  tickled  with 
his  nursery-like  proceedings. 

"What  gars  t'ee  think,  Watty,"  rejoined  his 
father,  'Hhat  I  would  hurt  the  wean  ?" 

"'Cause  I  hae  heard  you  wish  that  the  Lord 
would  tak  the  brat  to  nimsel'." 

"An'  I  did,  Watty,  it  was  nae  ill  wish." 

"So  I  ken,  or  else  the  minister  lies,"  replied 
Walter  ;  "  but  I  wouldna  like,  for  a'  that,  to  hae 
her  sent  till  Him  ;  and  noo,  as  they  say  ye're  ta'en 
up  wi'  Charlie's  bairns,  I  jealouse  ye  hae  some  end 
o'  your  ain  for  rookety-cooing  wi'  my  wee  lictty 
Bodle.  I  canna  understand  this  new-kvthed  ^ 
kindness — so,  gin  ye  like,  father,  we'll  just  be 
fair  gude-e'en  and  fair  gude-day,  as  we  were 
wont." 

This  sank  deeper  into  the  wounded  heart  of 
his  father  than  even  the  distrust  of  the  orphans ; 
but  the  old  man  made  no  answer.  W  alter,  how- 
ever, observed  him  muttering  something  to  him- 
self as  he  leant  his  head  back,  with  his  eyes 
shut,  against  the  shoulder  of  the  easy-chair  in 
which  he  was  sitting ;  and  rising  softly  with  the 

^  Ncio-kythcd.     Newly  manifested. 
VOL.   I.  T 


290 


THE  ENTAIL 


child  in  his  ,irms,  walked  cautiously  behind  tlie 
chair,  and  bent  forward  to  listen.  But  the  words 
were  spoken  so  inwardly  and  thickly  that  nothing 
could  be  overheard.  While  in  this  position,  the 
little  girl  jilayfully  stretched  out  her  hand  and 
seized  her  grandfather  by  the  ear.  Startled  from 
his  prayer  or  his  reverie,  Claud,  yielding  to  the 
first  impulse  of  the  moment,  turned  angrily  round 
at  being  so  disturbed,  and,  under  the  influence 
of  his  old  contemptuous  regard  for  Watty,  struck 
him  a  severe  blow  on  the  face ;  but  almost  in 
the  same  instant,  ashamed  of  his  rashness,  he 
shudderingly  exclaimed,  throbbing  with  remorse 
and  vexation, — 

<(  Forgie  me,  Watty,  for  I  know  not  what  I  do  !  " 
and  he  added,  in  a  wild  ejaculation,  "  Lord  !  Lord  ! 
Oh,  lighter,  lighter  lay  the  hand  o'  Thy  anger  upon 
me  !  The  reed  is  broken  1  Oh,  if  it  may  stand  wi' 
Thy  pleasure,  let  it  not  thus  be  trampled  in  the 
mire  !  But  why  should  I  supplicate  for  any  favour? 
Lord  of  justice  and  of  judgment,  let  Thy  will  be 
done  ! " 

Walter  was  scarcely  more  confounded  by  the 
blow  than  by  these  impassioned  exclamations,  and 
hastily  quitting  the  room,  ran,  with  the  child  in 
his  arms,  to  his  mother,  who  happened  at  the 
time,  as  was  her  wont,  to  be  in  the  kitchen  on 
household  cares  intent,  crying — 

"  Mother  I  mother  !  my  father's  gane  by  hiiiV 
sel' ;  he's  aff  at  the  head  ;  he's  daft,  and  ta'cn 
to  the  praising  o'  the  Lord  at  this  time  o'  day." 


THE  ENTAIL 


291 


But,  excepting  this  trivial  incident,  nothing, 
as  we  have  already  stated,  occurred  between  the 
interview  with  Leddy  Plealands  and  the  funeral 
to  indicate,  in  any  degree,  the  fierce  combustion 
of  distracted  thoughts  which  was  raging  within 
the  unfathomable  caverns  of  the  penitent's  bosom. 
All  without,  save  but  for  this  little  effusion,  was 
calm  and  stable.  His  external  appearance  was  as 
we  have  sometimes  seen  Mount  Etna  in  the  sul- 
lenness  of  a  wintry  day,  when  the  chaos  and  fires 
of  its  abyss  uttered  no  sound,  and  an  occasion;:! 
gasp  of  vapour  was  heavily  breathed  along  the 
grey  and  gloomy  sky.  Everything  was  still  and 
seemingly  steadfast.  The  woods  were  silent  in  all 
their  leaves  ;  the  convents  wore  an  awful  aspect  of 
unsocial  solemnity ;  and  the  ruins  and  remains  of 
former  ages  appeared  as  if  permitted  to  moulder 
in  unmolested  decay.  The  very  sea,  as  it  rolled 
in  a  noiseless  swell  towards  the  black  promon- 
tories of  lava,  suggested  strange  imageries  of  uni- 
versal death,  as  if  it  had  been  the  pall  of  the 
former  world  heavily  moved  by  the  wind.  But 
that  dark  and  ominous  tranquillity  boded  neither 
permanence  nor  safety :  the  traveller  and  the 
inhabitant  alike  felt  it  as  a  syncope  in  nature, 
and  dreaded  an  eruption  or  a  hurricane. 

Such  was  the  serenity  in  which  Claud  passed 
the  time  till  Saturday,  the  day  appointed  for  the 
funeral.  On  the  preceding  evening,  his  wife  went 
into  Glasgow  to  direct  the  prejiarations,  and  al)()ut 
noon  he  followed  her,  and  took  his  scat,  to  receive 


292 


THE  ENTAIL 


the  guests,  at  the  door  of  the  principal  room  ar- 
ranged for  the  company,  with  James,  the  orphan, 
at  his  knee.  Nothing  uncommon  passed  for  some 
time  ;  he  went  regularly  through  the  ceremonial  of 
assistant  chief  mourner,  and  in  silence  welcomed, 
by  the  customary  shake  of  the  hand,  each  of  the 
friends  of  the  deceased  as  they  came  in.  When 
Dr  Denholm  arrived,  it  was  observed  that  his  limbs 
trembled,  and  that  he  held  him  a  little  longer  by 
the  hand  tlian  any  other ;  but  he  too  was  allowed 
to  pass  on  to  his  seat.  After  the  venerable  minister, 
Mr  Keelevin  made  his  appearance.  His  clothes 
were  of  an  old-fashioned  cut,  such  as  even  still 
may  occasionally  be  seen  at  West-country  funerals, 
among  those  who  keep  a  special  suit  of  black 
for  the  purpose  of  attending  the  burials  of  their 
friends ;  and  the  sort  of  quick,  eager  look  of 
curiosity  which  he  glanced  round  the  room,  as 
he  lifted  his  small  cocked  hat  from  off  his  white, 
well-powdered,  Ionic  curled  tie-wig,  which  he 
held  firm  with  his  left  forefinger,  provoked  a 
smile,  in  despite  of  the  solemnity  of  the  occasion. 

Claud  grasped  him  impatiently  by  the  hand, 
and  drew  him  into  a  seat  beside  himself.  "  Hae 
ye  made  out  the  instrument  .^"  said  he. 

"It's  no  just  finished,"  replied  Mr  Keelevin; 
"  but  I  was  mindit  to  ca'  on  you  the  morn,  though 
it's  Sabbath,  to  let  you  see,  for  approbation,  what 
I  have  thought  might  be  sufficient." 

"Ye  ou,;ht  to  hae  had  it  done  by  this  time," 
said  Claud,  somewhat  chidingly. 


THE  ENTAIL 


293 


pal  room  ar- 
,  the  orphan, 
;sed  for  some 
ceremonial  of 
le  welcomed, 
,  each  of  the 
5  in.      When 
that  his  limbs 
;tle  longer  by 
)  was  allowed 
able  minister, 
His  clothes 

as  even  still 
mtry  funerals, 
suit  of  black 
urials  of  their 
ascer   look   of 

the  room,  as 

oiF  his  white, 

ig,    which  he 

provoked   a 

the  occasion, 
by  the  hand, 

[nself.     "  Hae 

he. 

Mr  Keelevin; 

morn,  though 

obation,  what 

by  this  time," 


'^ 'Deed  should  I,"  was  the  answer;  "but  ye 
ken  the  lords  are  coming  to  the  town  next 
week,  and  I  hae  had  to  prepare  for  the  defence 
of  several  unfortunate  creatures." 

"It's  a  judgment- time  indeed,"  said  Claud; 
and,  after  a  pause  of  several  minutes,  he  added, 
"  I  would  fain  no  be  disturbed  on  the  Lord's  day, 
so  ye  needna  come  to  Grip})y,  and  on  Monday 
morning  I'll  be  wi'  you  betimes  ;  I  liope  a'  may 
be  finished  that  day,  for,  till  I  liae  made  atone- 
ment, I  can  expeck  no  peace  o'  mind." 

Nothing  further  was  allowed  at  that  time  to 
pass  between  them ;  for  the  betherals  employed 
to  carry  round  the  services  of  bread  and  wine  ^ 
came  in  with  their  trays,  and  Deacon  Gardner, 
of  the  WTights,  who  had  charge  of  the  funeral, 
having  nodded  to  the  Reverend  Dr  John  Hamil- 
ton, the  minister  of  the  Inner  High  Church,  in 
the  district  of  which  the  house  was  situated,  the 
worthy  divine  rose,  and  put  an  end  to  all  further 
private  whispering  by  commencing  the  prayer. 

When  the  regular  indoor  rites  and  ceremonies 
were  performing,  and  the  body  had,  in  the  mean- 
time, been  removed  into  the  street  and  placed 
on  the  shoulders  of  those  who  were  to  carry  it  to 
the  grave,  Claud  took  his  grandson  by  the  hand, 
and  followed  at  the  head,  with  a  firmly  knotted 
countenance,  but  with  faltering  steps. 

In  the  procession  to  the  churchyard  no  particular 
expression  of  feeling  took  place  ;  but  when  the 
^  See  Note  A,  Annals  of  the  Parish. 


294. 


THE  ENTAIL 


first  shovelful  of  earth  rattled  hollowly  on  the 
coffin,  the  little  boy,  who  still  held  his  grand- 
father by  the  finger,  gave  a  shriek,  and  ran  to 
stop  the  gravedigger  from  covering  it  up.  But 
the  old  man  softly  and  composedly  drew  him 
back,  telling  him  it  was  the  will  of  God,  and 
that  the  same  thing  must  be  done  to  everybody 
in  the  world. 

'^And  to  me  too.'*"  said  the  child,  inquiringly 
and  fearfully. 

"  To  a'  that  live,"  replied  his  grandfather ;  and 
the  earth  being  by  this  time  half  filled  in,  he 
took  off  his  hat,  and  looking  at  the  grave  for  a 
moment,  gave  a  profound  sigh,  and  again  cover- 
ing his  head,  led  the  child  home. 


CHAPTER    XLYII 

Immediately  after  the  funeral,  Claud  re- 
turned home  to  Gripi)y,  where  he  continued 
during  the  remainder  of  the  day  secluded  in  his 
bed-chamber.  Next  morning,  K^eing  Sunday,  he 
was  up  and  dressed  earlier  than  usual ;  and  after 
partaking  s  i.v  :  ly  of  breakfast  he  walked  into 
Glasgow,  ana  went  straight  to  the  house  of  his 
daughter-in-law. 

The  widow  was  still  in  her  own  room,  and  not 
in  any  state  or  condition  to  be  seen;  but  the 
children  were  dressed  for  church,  and  when  the 
bells  began  to  ring  he  led  them  out,  each  holding 
him  by  the  hand,  innocently  proud  of  their  new 
black  clothes. 

In  all  the  way  up  the  High  Street  and  down 
the  pathway  from  the  churchyard  gate  to  the 
door  of  the  cathedral  he  never  raised  his  eyes ; 
and  during  the  sermon  he  continued  in  the  same 
apparent  st'ite  of  stupor.  In  retiring  from  the 
church,  the  little  boy  drew  him  gently  aside  from 
the  path  to  show  his  sister  the  spot  where  their 
father  was  laid  ;  and  the  old  man,  absorbed  in  his 
own  reflections,  was  unconsciously  on  the   point 

295 


295 


THE  ENTAIL 


of  stepping  on  the  grave,  when  James  checked 
him — 

"It's  papa — dinna  tramp  on  him." 

Aghast  and  recoiling,  as  if  he  had  trodden 
upon  an  adder,  lie  looked  wildly  around,  and 
breathed  quickly  and  with  great  difficulty,  but 
said  nothing.  In  an  instant  his  countenance 
underwent  a  remarkable  change  :  his  eyes  be- 
came glittering  and  glassy,  and  his  lips  white. 
His  whole  frame  shook,  and  appeared  under  the 
influence  of  some  mortal  agitation.  His  presence 
of  mind,  however,  did  not  desert  him,  and  he 
led  the  children  hastily  home.  On  reaching  the 
door,  he  cave  them  in  to  the  servant  that  onened 
it  without  sjieaking,  and  immediately  went  to 
Grippy,  where,  the  moment  he  had  seated  him- 
self in  his  elbow-chair,  he  ordered  one  of  the 
servants  to  go  for  Mr  Keelevin. 

"  What  ails  you,  father  ? "  said  Walter,  who 
was  in  the  room  at  the  time ;  "  ye  speak  unco 
drumly  ^ — hae  ye  bitten  your  tongue  ? "  But 
scarcely  had  he  uttered  these  words  when  the 
astonished  creature  gave  a  wild  and  fearful  shout, 
and,  clasping  his  hands  above  his  head,  cried, 
"  Help  !  help  !  something's  riving  my  father  in 
pieces  ! " 

The  cry  brought  in  the  servants,  who,  scarcely 
*ess  terrified,  found  the  old  man  smitten  with  a 
universal  paralysis,  his  mouth  and  eyes  dreadfully 
distorted,  and  his  arms  powerless. 

^  Drumly.     Thickly. 


les   jhecked 


lad  trodden 
Li'ound,  and 
fficulty,  but 
countenance 
is  eyes  be- 
lips  white. 
:1  under  the 
lis  presence 
lim,  and  he 
eaching  the 
:hat  ODened 
]y  went  to 
seated  him- 
one  of  the 

Salter,  who 
speak  unco 
Lie  ?  "  But 
>  when  the 
;arful  shout, 
head,  cried, 
y  father  in 

lo,  scarcely 
tten  with  a 
i  dreadfully 


THE  ENTAIL 


297 


In  the  alarm  and  consternation  of  the  moment, 
he  was  almost  immediately  deserted  :  every  one 
ran  in  quest  of  medical  aid.  Walter  alone 
remained  with  him,  and  continued  <^azing  in  his 
face  with  a  strange  horror,  which  idiocy  rendered 
terrific. 

Before  any  of  the  servants  returned  the  violence 
of  the  shock  seemed  to  subside,  and  he  appeared 
to  be  sensible  of  his  situation.  The  moment  that 
the  first  entered  the  room  he  made  an  effort  to 
speak,  and  the  name  of  Keelevin  was  two  or 
three  times  so  distinctly  articulated  that  even 
Walter  understood  what  he  meant,  and  imme- 
diately ran  wildly  to  Glasgow  for  the  lawyer. 
Another  messenger  was  despatched  for  the  leddy, 
who  had,  during  the  forenoon,  gone  to  her 
daughter-in-law,  with  the  intention  of  spending 
the  day. 

In  the  meantime  a  doctor  was  procured  ;  but 
he  seemed  to  consider  the  situation  of  the  patient 
hopeless.  He,  however,  as  in  all  similar  cases, 
applied  the  usual  stimulants  to  restore  energy, 
but  without  any  decisive  effect. 

The  weather,  which  all  day  had  been  lowering 
and  hazy,  about  this  time  became  drizzly,  and 
the  wind  rose,  insomuch  that  Leddy  Grippy,  wlio 
came  flying  to  the  summons,  before  reaching 
home  was  drenched  to  the  skin,  and  was  for  some 
time,  both  from  her  agitation  and  fatigue,  in- 
capable of  taking  any  part  in  the  bustle  around 
her  husband. 


298 


THE  ENTAIL 


Walter,  who  liad  made  the  utmost  speed  for 
Mr  Keelevin,  returned  soon  after  his  mother,  and 
on  appearing  before  his  father,  the  old  man  eagerly 
spoke  to  him,  but  his  voice  was  so  thick  that  few 
of  his  words  were  intelligible.  It  was  evident, 
however,  that  he  inquired  for  the  lawyer ;  for  he 
threw  his  eyes  constantly  towards  the  door,  and 
several  times  again  was  able  to  articulate  his 
name. 

At  last  Mr  Keelevin  arrived  on  horseback,  and 
came  into  the  room,  dressed  in  his  trotcosey,^ 
the  hood  of  which,  over  his  cocked  hat,  was 
drawn  so  closely  on  his  face  that  but  the  tip  of 
his  sharp  aquiline  nose  was  visible.  But,  forgetful 
or  regardless  of  his  appearance,  he  stalked  with 
long  strides  at  once  to  the  chair  where  Claud  was 
sitting ;  and  taking  from  under  the  skirt  of  the 
trotcosey  a  bond  of  provision  for  the  widow  and 
children  of  Charles,  and  for  Mrs  Milrookit,  he 
knelt  down,  and  began  to  read  it  aloud. 

''Sir,"  said  the  doctor,  who  was  standing  at  the 
other  side  of  the  patient,  "  Mr  Walkinshaw  is  in 
no  condition  to  understand  you." 

Still,  however,  Mr  Keelevin  read  on  ;  and  when 
he  had  finished  he  called  for  pen  and  ink. 

"  It  is  impossible  that  he  can  write,"  said  the 
doctor. 

"  Ye  hae  no  business  to  mak  ony  sic  observa- 
tion," exclaimed  the  benevolent  lawyer.  "  Ye 
should  say  nothing  till  we  try.      In  the  name  of 

^  Trotcosey.    A  woollen  covering  for  shoulders  and  head. 


THE  ENTAIL 


299 


5t  speed  for 
mother,  and 
man  eagerly 
ick  that  few 
vas  evident, 
'^yer ;  for  he 
16  door,  and 
•ticulate    his 

rseback,  and 
5  trotcosey,^ 
id  hat,  was 
it  the  tip  of 
Jut,  forgetful 
stalked  with 
e  Claud  was 
skirt  of  the 
;  widow  and 
lilrookit,  he 
loud. 

nding  at  the 
inshaw  is  in 

;  and  when 

ink. 

;e,"  said  the 

sic  observa- 


wyer. 


fC 


Ye 


the  name  of 

rs  and  head. 


justice  and  mercy,  is  there  nobody  in  this  house 
that  will  fetch  me  pen  and  ink  ?  " 

It  was  evident  to  all  present  that  Claud  per- 
fectly understood  what  his  friend  said  ;  and  his 
eyes  betokened  eagerness  and  satisfaction;  but 
the  expression  with  which  his  features  accom- 
panied the  assent  in  his  look  was  horrible  and 
appalling. 

At  this  juncture  Leddy  Grippy  came  rushing, 
half  dressed,  into  the  room,  her  dishevelled  grey 
hair  flying  loosely  over  her  shoulders,  exclaiming — • 

"  What's  wrang  noo  ?  What  new  judgment  has 
befallen  us  }  Whatna  fearfu'  image  is  that,  like  a 
corpse  out  o'  a  tomb,  that's  making  a'  this  rippet  ^ 
for  the  cheatrie  instruments  o'  pen  and  ink,  when 
a  dying  man  is  at  his  last  gasp  }  " 

"  Mrs  Walkinshaw,  for  Heaven's  sake  be  quiet ! 
Your  gudeman,"  replied  Mr  Keelevin,  opening  the 
hood  of  his  trotcosey  and  throwing  it  back,  taking 
off,  at  the  same  time,  his  cocked  hat,  "  Your  gude- 
man kens  very  weel  what  I  hae  read  to  him.  It's 
a  provision  for  Mrs  Charles  and  her  orphans." 

"  But  is  there  no  likewise  a  provision  in't  for 
me  }  "  cried  the  leddy. 

"  Oh,  Mrs  W^alkinshaw  !  we'll  speak  o'  that  here- 
after ;  but  let  us  get  this  executed  aff-hand,"  ^  re- 
plied Mr  Keelevin.  "  Ye  see  your  gudeman  kens 
what  we're  saying,  and  looks  wistfully  to  get  it 
done.  I  say,  in  the  name  of  God,  get  me  pen 
and  ink." 

^  Rippet,    Small  uproar.        2  Jff.hand.    Straight  away. 


300 


THE  ENTAIL 


"Ye's  jL^et  neither  pen  nor  ink  here,  Mr 
Keele\in,  till  my  ri«^hts  are  cognost  in  a  record 
o'  sederunt  and  session." 

"Hush  !"  exclaimed  the  doctor. 

All  was  silent,  and  every  eye  turned  on  the 
patient,  whose  countenance  was  again  hideously 
convulsed.  A  troubled  groan  struggled  and 
heaved  for  a  moment  in  his  breast,  and  was 
followed  by  short  quivering  through  his  whole 
frame. 

"It  is  all  over!"  said  the  doctor. 

At  these  words  the  Icddy  rushed  towards  the 
elbow-chair,  and,  with  frantic  cries  and  gestures, 
flew  on  the  body,  and  acted  an  extravagance  of 
sorrow  ten  times  more  outrageous  than  grief.  Mr 
Keelevin  stood  motionless,  holding  the  paper  in 
his  hand ;  and,  after  contemplating  the  spectacle 
before  him  for  about  two  or  three  minutes,  shook 
his  head  disconsolately,  and  replacing  his  cocked 
hat,  drew  the  hood  of  the  trotcosey  again  over 
his  face,  and  left  the  house. 


CHAPTER    XLVIII 


jrVS  soon  as  the  nature  of  tlie  settlement  which 
Claud  had  made  of  his  property  was  known,  Leddy 
Plealands  removed  Mrs  Charles  and  the  children 
to  her  own  house,  and  earnestly  entreated  her 
daughter,  the  leddy,  who  continued  to  reside  at 
Grippy,  managing  the  household  cares  there  as 
usual,  to  exerf;  her  influence  with  Walter  to 
make  some  provision  for  his  unfortunate  relations. 
Even  George,  who,  engrossed  by  his  business  and 
his  own  family,  cared  almost  as  little  as  any  man 
for  the  concerns  of  others,  felt  so  ashamed  of  his 
father's  conduct  that,  on  the  Sunday  after  the 
funeral,  he  went  to  pay  a  visit  of  condolence  to 
his  mother,  and  to  join  his  exhortations  to  hers, 
in  the  hope  that  something  might  be  done.  But 
Walter  was  inexorable. 

"If  my  father,"  said  he,  "did  sic  a  wicked 
thing  to  Charlie  as  ye  a'  say,  what  for  would  ye 
hae  me  to  do  as  ill  and  as  wrang  to  my  bairn  } 
Isna  wee  Betty  Bodle  my  first-born,  and,  by 
course  o'  nature  and  law,  she  has  a  right  to  a'  1 
hae;  what  for,  then,  would  ye  hae  me  to  mak 
away  wi'  onything  that  pertains  to  her  ?  I'll  no 
be  guilty  o'   ony  sic  sin." 

301 


302 


tup:  entail 


"But  yoii  know,  Walter,"  replied  GeorjOje, 
"  that  our  father  did  intend  to  make  some  })ro- 
vision  both  for  Mrs  Charles,  her  family,  and  our 
sister,  and  it's  really  a  dis<rraee  to  us  all  if  nothinrj 
be  done  for  them.  It  was  but  a  ehance  that  the 
bond  of  provision  wasna  signed." 

"  Ye  may  say  sae,  Geordie,  in  your  craeks  at 
the  Yarn  Club,  ouer  the  punch-bowl,  but  I  think 
it  was  the  will  of  Providence  ;  for,  had  it  been 
ordain't  that  Bell  Fatherlans  and  her  weans  were 
to  get  a  part  o'  father's  gear,  they  would  Iiae 
gotten't ;  but  ye  saw  the  Lord  took  him  to 
Abraham's  bosom  before  the  bond  was  signed, 
which  was  a  clear  proof  and  testimony  to  me  that 
it  doesna  stand  wi'  the  pleasure  o'  Heaven  that 
she  should  get  onything.  She'll  get  nothing 
frae  me." 

"But,"  again  interposed  George,  "if  you  will  do 
nothing  in  consideration  of  our  father's  intention, 
you  ought  in  charity  to  think  of  her  distress." 

"  Charity  begins  at  hame,  Geordie ;  and  wha 
kens  but  I  may  be  brought  to  want  if  I  dinna 
tak  care  i* " 

"  I'm  sure,"  replied  the  merchant  sharply,  "  that 
many  a  one  has  who  less  deserved  it." 

"How  do  ye  ken  what  I  deserve?"  cried 
the  natural,  offended.  "  It's  speaking  ill  o'  the 
understanding  o'  Providence  to  say  I  dinna 
deserve  what  it  has  gi'en  me.  I'm  thinking, 
Geordie,  Providence  kens  my  deserts  muckle 
better  than  you." 


THE  ENTArr. 


303 


Ix^cldy  Grippy,  who  (hirin«r  this  conversation 
was  sitting  at  the  tahle  in  all  the  j)onip  of  hrr 
new  widow's  weeds,  with  the  bi«r  Hihle  before 
her,  in  whieh  slie  was  tryiii";-  to  read  that  edi- 
fying chapter,  the  tenth  of  Neheniiah,  here 
interposed — 

"Wheesht,  wneesnt,  Watty,  and  dinna  blas- 
pheme," said  she;  "and  no  be  overly  condii- 
macious.  Ye  ken  your  father  was  a  good  man, 
and  nothing  but  the  dart  o'  death  prevented 
him  frae  making  a  handsome  provision  for  a'  his 
family,  forbye  you  ;  and  no  doubt,  when  ye  hue 
gotten  the  better  o'  the  sore  stroke  o'  the  sudden 
removal  of  the  golden  candlestick  o'  his  life  from 
among  us,  ye' 11  do  everything  in  a  rational  and 
just  manner." 

"'Deed  I'll  do  nae  sic  things,  mother,"  was 
the  re{)ly ;  "  I'm  mindit  to  hand  the  grip  I  liae 
gotten." 

"But  ye're  a  Christian,  Watty,"  resumed  the 
leddy,  still  preserving  her  well-put-on  mourning 
equanimity ;  "  and  it  behoves  you  to  refleck  that 
a'  in  your  power  is  gi'en  to  you  but  as  a  steward." 

"Ye  needna  tell  me  that.  But  wha's  steward 
am  I  ?  Isna  the  matter  a  trust  for  my  bairn  ?  I'm 
wee  Betty  Bodle's  steward,  and  no  man  shall  up- 
braid me  wi'  being  unfaithfu',"  replied  Walter. 

"  Ay,  ay,  Watty,  that's  very  true  in  a  sense," 
said  she;  "but  whosoever  giveth  to  the  poor 
lendeth  to  the  Lord." 

"  That's  what  I   canna   comprehend ;   for   the 


304 


THE  ENTAIL 


Lord  lias  no  need  to  borrow.  He  can  mak  a 
world  o'  gold  for  the  poor  folk  if  He  likes ;  and 
if  He  keeps  them  in  poortith.  He  has  His  ain 
reasons  for't." 

"  Ah,  weel  I  wat !  "  exclaimed  the  lady  pathe- 
tically :  "  noo  I  fin'  to  my  cost  that  my  cousin, 
Rinfi,:^n  Gilhaise,  the  Mauchline  maltster,  had  the 
rights  o't  when  he  plea't  my  father's  will,  on 
account  of  thy  concos  montis ;  and,  but  for  auld 
pawky  Keelevin,  he  would  hae  gotten  the  pro- 
perty that's  sae  ill  wair't  on  thee." 

All  this,  however,  made  no  impression ;  but 
George,  in  walking  bach  to  Glasgow,  several  times 
thought  of  what  had  fallen  from  his  mother 
respecting  the  attempt  which  had  been  made  to 
set  aside  her  father's  settlement,  on  the  score  of 
Walter's  idiocy ;  and  once  or  twice  it  occurred  to 
him  that  the  thing  was  still  not  impracticable, 
a^d  thnt,  being  next  heir  of  entail  and  nearest 
male  relative,  it  might  be  of  advantage  to  his 
own  '  iHiily  to  get  the  management  of  the  estate. 
Thus,  by  a  conversation  intended  to  benefit  the 
disinherited  heirs,  the  seed  w^as  sown  of  new 
plans  and  proceedings  worthy  of  the  father's  son. 
From  that  period  George  took  no  further  interest 
in  the  affairs  of  his  sister-in-law  ;  but  his  visits 
became  unusually  frequent  to  Grippy,  and  he  was 
'generally  always  attended  by  some  friend,  whom 
he  led  into  conversation  with  his  brother,  calcu- 
lated to  call  forth  tlie  least  equivocal  disclosures 
of  the  state  of  Walter's  muid. 


THE  ENTAIL 


305 


can   mak  a 

likes;  and 

las  His   ain 

lady  pathc- 
my  cousin, 
ter,  had  the 
r's  will,  on 
)ut  for  auld 
en  the  pro- 

ession  ;  but 
everal  times 
his  mother 
len  made  to 
the  score  of 

occurred  to 
ipracticable, 
and  nearest 
itage  to  his 
f  the  estate. 

benefit  the 
^wn  of  new 
father's  son. 
ther  interest 
ut  his  visits 
,  and  he  was 
riend,  whom 
other,  calcu- 
1  disclosures 


But  whatever  were  his  motives  for  these  visits 
and  this  kind  of  conduct,  he  kept  them  close 
within  his  own  breast.  No  one  suspected  him  of 
any  sinister  desi<]fn,  but  many  applauded  his  filial 
attentions  to  his  mother, — for  so  his  visits  were 
construed, — and  they  were  deemed  the  more 
meritorious  on  account  of  the  state  of  his  own 
family,  his  wife,  after  the  birth  of  her  twin 
daughters,  having  fallen  into  ill-health.  Indeed, 
he  was  in  general  contemplated  with  sentiments 
of  compassion  and  respect.  Everybody  had  heard 
of  his  anxiety,  on  tlie  death  of  his  father,  to  pro- 
cure some  provision  for  his  deceased  brother's 
family,  and  sympathised  with  the  regret  which 
he  expressed  at  finding  Walter  so  niggardly  and 
intractable,  for  not  a  word  w^as  breathed  of  his 
incapacity.  The  increased  thoughtfulness  and 
reserve  of  his  manner,  which  began,  we  may  say, 
from  the  conversation  quoted,  was  in  consequence 
attributed  to  the  effect  of  his  comfortless  domestic 
situation  ;  and  the  public  sympathy  was  consider- 
ably augmented  when,  in  the  course  of  the  same 
year  in  which  his  father  died,  he  happctied  to 
lose  one  of  his  daughters. 

There  were,  however,  among  his  friends,  as 
there  are  ahvavs  about  most  men,  certain  shrewd 
and  invidious  characters,  and  some  among  them 
did  not  give  him  credit  for  so  much  sensiliility  as 
their  mutual  acquaintance  in  common  j)arlance 
ascribed  to  him.  On  the  contrary,  they  openly 
condemned   his  indelicacy  in  so  often   exposing 


VOL.   1. 


u 


306 


THE  ENTAIL 


the  fooleries  of  his  brother ;  and  those  who  had 
detected  the  well-hidden  sordid  meanness  of  his 
disposition  wondered  that  he  had  so  quietly 
acquiesced  in  Walter's  succession.  But  they  had 
either  forgotten  or  had  never  heard  of  the  cir- 
cumstance to  which  his  mother  alluded  with  re- 
spect to  her  relation's  (the  Mauchline  maltster) 
attempt  to  invalidate  her  father's  will,  and,  of 
course,  were  not  aware  of  the  address  requisite  to 
prove  the  incapacity  of  a  man  whose  situation  had 
been  already  investigated,  and  who,  by  a  solemn 
adjudication,  was  declared  in  the  full  possession 
of  all  his  faculties.  Their  wonderment  was  not, 
however,  allowed  to  continue  long ;  for  an  event 
which  took  place  within  a  little  more  than  three 
months  after  tlie  death  of  his  daughter  ended  all 
debates  and  controversies  on  the  subject. 


e  who  had 
ness  of  his 
so  quietly 
t  they  had 
3f  the  cir- 
d  with  re- 
3  maltster) 
ill,  and,  of 
requisite  to 
;uation  had 
Y  a  solemn 
possession 
it  was  not, 
r  an  event 
than  three 
r  ended  all 

2t. 


CHAPTER    XLIX 

X^EATH,  it  is  said,  rarely  enters  a  house  without 
making  himself  familiar  to  the  inmates.  Walter's 
daughter,  a  premature  child,  had  from  her  birth 
been  always  infirm  and  delicate.  In  the  course 
of  the  spring  after  her  grandfather's  death  she 
evidently  grew  worse,  and  towards  the  end  of 
summer  it  was  the  opinion  of  all  who  saw  her 
that  she  could  not  live  long.  The  tenderness  and 
solicitude  of  her  father  knew  no  bounds.  She 
was,  indeed,  the  sole  object  that  interested  him 
in  life ;  he  doted  over  her  with  the  most  single 
and  entire  affection ;  and  when  she  died,  he  would 
not  believe,  nor  allow  himself  to  think,  she  had  ex- 
pired, but  sat  by  the  bedside,  preserving  silence, 
and  preventing  her  from  being  touched,  lest  it 
should  awaken  her  from  a  slumber  which  he 
fondly  imagined  was  to  establish  her  recovery. 
No  inducement  could  be  contrived  to  draw  him 
from  his  vigilant  watch,  nor  by  any  persuasion 
could  permission  be  obtained  to  dress  her  corpse. 
George,  in  the  meanwhile,  called  several  times  at 
the  house,  and  took  occasion,  in  going  there  one 
day,   to   ask  the   Reverend    Doctor  Denholm   to 

307 


308 


THE  ENTAIL 


I  ' 


accompany  lYti,  under  the  pretext  that  perliaps 
he  mi^ht  prevail  with  Walter  to  allow  the  body  to 
be  removed,  as  it  was  beginning  to  grow  offensive. 
But  when  they  reached  the  house  Walter  was 
missing ;  he  had  suddenly  and  unobserved  quitted 
the  room  where  the  corpse  lay,  and  his  mother, 
availing  herself  of  his  absence,  was  busily  pre- 
paring for  the  interment. 

They  waited  some  time  in  e  oectation  of  his  re- 
turn, believing  he  had  only  walked  into  the  fields, 
in  consequence  of  the  air  of  the  chamber  having 
become  intolerable  ;  but  after  conversing  upwards 
of  an  hour  on  general  topics,  some  anxiety  began 
lo  be  expressed  for  his  appearance,  and  his  mother 
grew  so  alarmed  that  servants  were  despatched  in 
all  directions  in  quest  of  him.  They  had  not, 
however,  proceeded  far,  when  he  was  met  on  the 
Glasgow  road,  coming  with  his  niece  Mary  in  his 
arms,  followed  by  Leddy  Plealands'  maid-servant, 
loudly  remonstrating  with  him  for  carrying  off  the 
child,  and  every  now  and  then  making  an  attempt 
to  snatch  it  from  his  arms. 

"What  hae  ye  been  about.'*"  cried  his  mother 
as  she  saw  him  approaching  towards  the  house. 
He,  however,  made  no  answer ;  but,  carrying  the 
child  into  the  nursery,  he  immediately  stripped  it 
naked,  and  dressed  her  in  the  clothes  of  his  own 
daughter,  caressing  and  pleasing  her  with  a  thou- 
sand fond  assurances — calling  her  liis  third  Betty 
Bodle,  and  betraying  all  the  artless  delight  and 
satisfaction  with  which  a  child  regards  a  new  toy. 


THE  ENTAIL 


309 


Dr  Denholm  happening  to  be  among  those  who 
wondered  that  his  brother  had  permitted  him  to 
succeed  his  father  unmolested,  on  seeing  this  in- 
disputable proof  of  idiocy  according  to  the  notions 
of  society,  said — 

''  I  canna  refrain,  Mr  George,  from  telling  you 
that  I  think  it's  no  right  to  alloo  such  a  fine  pro- 
perty as  your  father  left  to  be  exposed  to  wastrie 
and  ruination  in  the  possession  of  such  a  haverel. 
It's  neither  doing  justice  to  the  world  nor  to  your 
ain  family ;  and  I  redde  you  look  about  you — for 
wha  kens  what  he  may  do  next  ?  " 

Such  an  admonition,  the  involuntary  incitement 
of  the  moment,  was  not  lost.  George,  in  fact,  had 
been  long  fishing  for  something  of  the  kind ;  but 
nothing  had  occurred  to  provoke  so  explicit  an 
opinion  of  Walter's  obvious  incapacity.  He,  how- 
ever, replied  cautiously — 

"  Some  allowance,  doctor,  must  be  made  for  the 
consternation  of  his  sorrow ;  and  ye  should  know 
that  it's  a  kittle  point  of  law  to  determine  when  a 
man  has  or  has  not  his  sufficient  senses." 

"'Deed,  Dr  Denholm,"  added  Lady  Grippy, 
who  happened  to  be  present,  ^'what  ye  say  is 
very  true  ;  for  I  can  ne'er  abide  to  think  that 
Watty's  as  he  ought  to  be,  since  he  refused  to 
make  good  his  honest  father's  kind  intents  to 
the  rest  o'  the  family.  Here  am  I  toiling  and 
moiling  frae  morning  to  night  for  his  advantage  ; 
and  would  ye  believe  me,  doctor,  when  I  tell 
you  that   he'll  no  alloo  a  blatk  bawbee   for  any 


310 


THE  ENTAIL 


. 


needful  outlay  ?  and  I'm  obligated  to  tak  frae 
my  ain  jointure-money  to  pay  the  cost  o'  every- 
tliing  the  house  stands  in  need  of." 

"Not  possible!"  said  George,  with  every  in- 
dication of  the  sincerest  astonishment. 

"  Whether  it's  possible  or  whether  it's  pro- 
bable I  ken  best  mysel'/'  replied  the  leddy. 
"  And  this  I  ken  likewise  :  that  what  I  say  is 
the  even-down  truth ;  and  nae  farther  gane  than 
Mononday  was  eight  days  I  paid  Deacon  Paul, 
the  Glasgow  mason,  thirteen  shillings,  a  groat, 
and  a  bawbee  for  the  count  o'  his  sklater  that 
pointed  the  skews  ^  o'  the  house  at  Martinmas ; 
and  though  I  would  supplicate,  an'  it  were  on  my 
knees,  like  Queen  Esther,  the  dure  Ahasuerus, 
that  he  is,  has  no  mercy.  Indeed,  I'll  be  nana 
surprised  gin  he  leaves  me  to  pay  a'  the  charge 
o'  his  bairn's  burial,  which  will  be  a  black  shame 
if  he  does." 

"This  must  not  be  endured,"  said  George 
gravely ;  "  and  I  am  surprised,  mother,  ye  never 
spoke  of  such  treatment  before.  I  cannot  sit 
patient  and  hear  that  ye're  used  in  such  a  cruel 
and  unnatural  manner." 

"It  would  be  a  blot  on  your  character,  Mr 
George,"  rejoined  the  'minister,  "if  ye  did.  Your 
brother  has  been  from  his  youth  upward  an  evi- 
dent idiot ;  and  ever  since  the  death  of  his  wife, 
ony  little  wit  he  had  has  been  daily  growing  less." 

^  Sklater  that  pointed  the  skews.     Slater  who  pointed  tho 
oblique  parts  of  tho  gable. 


THE  ENTAIL 


311 


lack  shame 


i  pointed  tho 


"  What  ye  say,  doctor,"  resumed  the  leddy,  "  is 
no  to  be  controverted ;  for,  poor  lad,  he  certainly 
fell  intil  a  sore  melancholic  at  that  time ;  and  it's 
my  conceit  he  has  ne'er  ri^^'itly  got  the  better 
o't ;  for  he  was — hegh,  sirs  !-  ae  was  till  that  time 
the  kindest  o'  a'  my  bairns ;  bu*  irae  the  day  and 
liour  that  his  wife  took  her  departel  in  childbed 
he  has  been  a  changed  creature.  Ye'll  mind 
how  outstrapolous  and  constipated  he  was  at  her 
])urial ;  and — it's  wi'  a  heavy  heart  that  I  maun 
say't — when  his  kind  father,  soon  after,  wanted  to 
mak  a  will  and  testament  to  keep  us  a'  right  and 
comfortable,  he  was  just  like  to  burn  the  liouse 
aboon  our  heads  wi'  his  condumacity." 

"  I  am  well  aware  of  the  truth  of  much  that 
you  have  said ;  but  it's  a  painful  thing  for  a  man 
to  think  of  taking  steps  against  the  capacity  of 
his  brother,"  replied  George.  "  For,  in  the  event 
of  not  succeeding,  he  must  suffer  great  obloquy 
in  the  opinion  of  the  world ;  and  you  know  that, 
with  respect  to  Walter,  the  attempt  was  once 
made  already." 

"And  everybody  said,"  cried  the  leddy,  "that 
but  for  the  devices  of  auld  draughty  ^  Keelevin, 
he  would  hae  been  proven  as  mad  as  a  March 
hare ;  and  nae  doubt,  as  he  kens  how  he  jookit 
the  law  afore,  he  might  be  o'  an  instrumentality 
were  the  thing  to  gang  to  a  revisidendo.  No  that 
I  would  like  to  see  my  bairn  put  into  bedlam ;  at 
the  same  time,  Dr  Denholm,  I  wouldna  be  doing 
»  1  Draughty.     Artfiil. 


312 


THE  ENTAIL 


a  Christian  and  a  parent's  part  to  the  lave  o'  my 
family  an'  I  were  to  mak  a  mitigation  against  it." 

"I  do  not  think/'  replied  George,  looking  in- 
quiringly at  the  reverend  doctor,  "  that  when  a 
man  is  proved  incapable  of  condu:?ting  his  affairs 
it  is  necessaiy  to  confine  him." 

"  Oh,  no  !  not  at  all,  Mr  George,"  was  the  un- 
suspicious minister's  answer.  "  It  would  mak  no 
odds  to  your  brother :  it  would  only  oblige  you  to 
take  the  management  of  the  estate." 

"  That,"  replied  George,  "  would  be  far  from 
convenient,  for  the  business  of  the  counting-house 
requires  my  whole  attention.  Ye  can  have  no 
notion,  Dr  Denhohn,  how  much  this  rebellion  in 
America  has  increased  the  anxieties  of  merchants. 
At  the  same  time,  I  would  be  greatly  wanting 
in  duty  and  respect  towards  my  mother  were  I 
to  allow  her  to  remain  any  longer  in  such  an 
unhappy  state, — to  say  nothing  of  the  manifest 
injustice  of  obliging  her  to  lay  out  her  own 
proper  jointure  in  repairs  and  other  expenses  of 
the  house." 

Little  more  passed  at  that  time  on  the  subject; 
but,  in  the  course  of  walking  back  to  Glasgow, 
George  was  fortified  in  his  intentions  by  the  con- 
versation of  the  doctor,  or,  what  is  perhaps  more 
correct,  he  appeared  so  doubtful  and  scrupulous 
that  the  guileless  pastor  thought  it  necessary  to 
argue  with  him  against  allowing  his  delicacy  to 
carry  him  too  far. 


CHAPTER   L 


le  far  from 


After  the  minister  and  George  had  left  the 
house,  the  cares — we  should  say  the  enjoyments — 
of  the  leddy  were  considerably  increased  when 
she  had  leisure  to  reflect  on  the  sinjjular  trans- 
action  by  which  Walter  had  supplied  himself 
with  another  child.  What  with  the  requisite 
preparations  for  the  funeral  of  his  daughter  next 
day,  and  ''this  new  income,"  as  she  called  the 
adopted  orphan,  "that,  in  itself,  was  a  handling 
little  short  o'  a  birth,"  she  had  not,  from  the 
death  of  her  husband,  found  herself  half  so 
earnestly  occupied  as  on  this  sorrowful  occasion. 
The  house  rang  with  her  admonitions  to  the  ser- 
vants, and  her  short  quick  steps,  in  consequence 
of  walking  with  old  shoes  down  at  heel,  clattered 
as  cleverly  as  her  tongue.  But  all  this  bustle  and 
prodigality  of  anxieties  suffered  a  sudden  suspen- 
sion by  the  arrival  of  Mrs  Charles  Walkinshaw  in 
quest  of  her  child.  The  little  girl,  however,  was 
by  this  time  so  delighted  with  the  fondling  and 
caresses  of  her  uncle  that  she  was  averse  to  return 
home  with  her  mother. 

"I    won'er,"    said    Ltddv    GripDv.    "how 


Lt'ddy    Grippy, 


ane 


314 


THE  ENTAIL 


in  your  straitened  circumst.ince.  Bell  Fatherlans, 
canna  be  thankfu'  for  sie  a  ^ratus  almous  as  this. 
Watty's  a  kintl-hearteo  reature  ;  and  ye  may  be 
sure  that  neither  scaitii  iior  scant  ^  will  be  alloo't 
to  come  near  the  wean  while  it  stays  in  this  house. 
For  my  part,  I  think  his  kidnapping  her  has  been 
nothing  less  than  an  instigation  o'  Providence, 
since  he  wouldna  be  constrained,  by  any  reason 
or  understanding,  to  settle  an  aliment  on  you." 

'^  I  cannot,  however,  part  with  my  child  to  him. 
You  know  there  are  many  little  peculiarities  about 
Mr  Walter  that  do  not  exactly  fit  him  for  taking 
charge  of  children." 

"  But  since  he's  willing  to  bear  the  cost  and 
charge  o'  her,"  said  the  leddy,  ''^ye  should  mak  no 
■objeck,  but  conform  ;  for  ye  ken  I'll  hae  the  direc- 
tion o'  her  edication ;  and  I'm  sure  ye  wouldna 
wish  to  see  her  any  better  brought  up  than  was 
our  Meg,  Mrs  Milrookit,  who  could  once  play  seven 
tunes  and  a  march  on  the  spinet,  and  sewed  a 
f.atin  piece  at  Embro,  of  Adam  and  Eve  eating 
the  forbidden  fruit  under  the  tree  of  life,  the  like 
of  which  hadna  before  been  seen  in  a'  this  kintra- 
side.  In  short.  Bell,  my  dear,  it's  my  advice  to 
you  to  let  the  lassie  bide  wi'  us ;  for,  unless  Watty 
is  put  out  o'  the  way,  it  may  prove  a  great  thing 
baith  for  her  and  you,  for  he's  a  most  'conomical 
creature,  and  the  siller  he'll  save  belyve  will  be 
just  a  portion." 


"W^hat    do    you    mean,"    replied    the 
1  Siaith  nor  scant.     Hurt  nor  want. 


young 


THE   ENTAIL 


315 


Fatlu.'rlaiis, 
lous  as  this. 

ye  may  be 
11  be  alloo't 
I  this  house, 
er  has  been 
Providence, 

any  reason 
on  you." 
hi  Id  to  him. 
irities  about 
1  for  taking 

le   cost  and 

)uld  mak  no 

le  the  direc- 

ye  wouldna 

ip  than  was 

e  play  seven 

nd  sewed  a 

Eve  eating 

ife,  the  like 

this  kintra- 

ly  advice  to 

nless  Watty 

great  thing 

;  'conomical 

yve  will  be 

the    young 


widow  eagerly,  "about  putting  him   out  of  the 
way  ? 

"  Ah,  Bell  Fatherlans  !  "  exclaimed  the  leddy  in 
her  most  pathetic  manner,  '^  little  ken  ye  yet  what 
it  is  to  hae  a  family.       This  has,  indeed,  been  a 
house  o'  mourning  the  day,  even  though  we  hadna 
a  body  in  it  waiting  for  interment.     The  minister 
has  been  here  wi'  Geordie,  and  it's  his  solid  opinion 
— we  a'  ken  what  a  man  o'  lair  and  judgment  Dr 
Denholm  is, — he  thinks  that  Watty's  no  o'  a  faculty 
to  maintain  the  salvation  of  the  family  property ; 
and  when  your  gude-brother  heard  how  I  hae  been 
used,  he  said  that  neither  law  nor  justice  should 
oblige  him  to  let  his  mother  live  any  longer  in 
this  house  o'  bondage  and  land  o'  Egypt ;  so  that, 
when  we  get  the  wean  put  aneath  the  ground, 
there  aiblins  will  be  some  'terrogation  as  to  the 
naturality  of  Watty's  capacity,  which,  ye  may  be 
sure,  is  a  most  sore  heart  to  me,  his  mother,  to  hear 
tell  o'.    But  if  it's  the  Lord's  will,  I  maun  submit; 
for  really,  in  some  things,  Watty's  no  to  be  thole't;^ 
yet  for  a'  that.  Bell,  my  dear,  I  would  let  him  tak 
his  own  way  wi'  your  bairn,  till  we  see  what's  to 
be  the  upshot.    For,  and  though  I  maun  say  it  who 
is  his  parent,  it  canna  be  weel  denied  that  he's  a 
thought  daft  by  course  o'  nature ;  he  may,  never- 
theless, be  decreetit  douce  ^  enough  by  course  o 
law.    Therefore,  it's  neither   for  you  nor  me  to 
mak  or  meddle  in  the  matter,  but  gather  the  haws 
afore  the  snaws,  betide  whatever  may  betide." 
1  Thole  I.     Endured.  2  j)oicce.     Sensible. 


316 


THE  ENTAIL 


We  cjiniiot  venture  to  say  that  Mrs  Charles 
Walkinshaw  was  exaetly  what  we  should  call  sur- 
prised at  this  information.  She  knew  enough  of 
the  characters  of  her  mother-in-law  and  of  George 
to  hear  even  more  extraordinary  communications 
from  the  former  unmoved.  We  need  scarcely  add, 
however,  that  the  leddy's  argument  was  not  calcu' 
lated  with  her  to  produce  the  effect  intended ;  on 
the  contrary,  she  said — 

"  What  you  tell  me  only  serves  to  convince  me 
of  the  impropriety  I  should  be  guilty  of  in  leaving 
my  child  with  W^alter." 

But  their  conversation  was  interrupted  at  this 
juncture  by  the  entrance  of  Walter,  leading  Mary. 

"  I'm  come,"  said  he,  "  Bell  Fatherlans,  to  tell 
you  that  ye're  to  gang  away  hame,  and  bring 
Jamie  here  to  stay  wi'  us.  The  house  is  big 
enough  to  hand  us  a',  and  it'll  be  a  grand  ploy  to 
my  mother — for  ye  ken  she  has  such  a  heart  for 
a  thrangerie  ^  but  and  ben,  that,  rather  than  want 
wark,  she'll  mak  a  baby  o'  the  beetle,^  and  dance 
tiirt,  cracking  her  thumbs,  and  singing — 

*  Dance  to  your  deddie,  my  bonny  leddie  ; 
Jink  through  the  reelie  ;  jook  round  the  wheelie ; 

Bob  in  the  setting,  my  bonny  lamb  ; 
And  ye's  get  a  slicie  o'  a  dishie  nicie — 

Red-cheekit  apples  and  a  mutton  ham.' 

So  just  gang  hame  at  ance.  Bell,  and  bring  your 

^  Thrangerie.     A  condition  of  constant  employment  for  all 
in  the  household.     See  Annals  of  the  Paris'i,  vol.  i,  p.  196. 
■■*  Beetle.    The  heavy  wooden  mallet  used  in  mangling. 


Tin-:  ENTAIL 


31 


convince  me 


laddie,  and  we'll  a'  live  tho^ithor,  and  rookctycoo 
wi'  ane  anither  like  doos  in  a  doocot." 

But  aIthou«:^h  Leddy  Grippy  certainly  did  like 
a  bustle  with  all  her  heart  and  spirit,  she  had 
still  that  infirmity  which  ever  belongs  to  human 
nature  gifted  with  similar  proj)ensities,  namely,  a 
throbbing  apprehension  at  the  idea  of  it,  such 
as  mankind  in  general  sufFir  in  the  prosj)ect  of 
enjoying  pleasure ;  and  the  expression  of  this 
feeling  with  her  took  commonly  the  form  and 
language  of  repugnance  and  reluctance ;  yea, 
sometimes  it  even  amounted  to  refusal. 

''What  say  ye?"  cried  she  to  Walter,  under  a 
strong  impression  of  it  at  the  moment.  ''Are 
ye  utterly  bereave't  o'  your  senses,  to  speak  o' 
bringing  the  lade  o'  another  family  on  my 
hands  ?" 

"I'm  sure,"  was  his  answer,  "if  ye  dinna  like 
to  tak  the  pleasure  o't,  ye're  free  to  set  up  your 
jointure-house,  and  live  the  life  o'  dowager- 
duchess,  for  me,  mother.  But  Bell  Fatherlans 
and  her  bairns  are  to  come  here, — for  this  is  my 
house,  ye  ken — settled  on  me  and  mine,  past  a' 
power  o'  law,  by  my  father — and  what's  my  ain 
I'll  mak  my  ain." 

"  Wha  would  hae  thought  o'  sic  outcoming  o' 
kindness  as  this  !  "  replied  the  leddy.  "  I  fancy. 
Bell,  ye'U  hae  to  come  and  resident  wi'  us  ?  " 

"  An'  she  doesna,"  said  Walter,  "  I'll  gang  away 
■where  never  one  kent  me,  and  tak  lier  wee  Mary 
on  my  back   in  a  basket,  like  Jenny  Nettles, — 


318 


THE  ENTAIL 


that's  what   I  v/ill ;    so  put  the   matter  to  your 
knee  and  straight  it." 

"  I'll  niak  a  bargain,  Mr  Walter,"  replied  Mrs 
Charles.  "  I'll  leave  Mary  to-night,  and  come* 
after  the  burial  to-morrow,  with  James,  and  stay 
a  few  days." 

'^Ye'll  stay  a'  your  days,"  exclaimed  Walter; 
"and  as  ye're  a  leddy  o'  niair  genteelity  than  my 
mother,  ye  shall  hae  the  full  rule  and  pov.  er  o' 
the  house,  and  mak  jam  and  jelly; — a'  the  cast 
o*  her  grace  and  skill  gangs  nae  farther  than 
butter  and  cheese." 

His  mother  was  confounded,  and  unable  for 
some  time  to  utter  a  word.  At  last,  putting  her 
hands  firmly  into  her  sides,  she  said — 

"  My  word,  but  tliou's  no  blate  !  But  it's  no 
worth  my  while  to  gang  in'il  a  passion  for  a  born 
idiot.  Your  reign,  my  lad,  's  no  ordaint  to  be 
lang,  if  there's  either  law  or  gospel  among  the 
Fifteen  at  Embro.  To  misliken  his  mother  !  To 
misuse  me  as  I  were  nae  better  than  an  auld 
bachle,^  and,  in  a  manner,  to  turn  me  out  the 
house ! " 

"Oh,  don't  disturb  yourself!"  interposed  Mrs 
Charles  ;  "  they  were  but  words  of  course.  You 
know  his  humour,  and  need  not  be  surprised  at 
what  he  says." 

The  indignant  mother  was  not,  however,  soon 
appeased  :  her  wrath  for  some  time  burnt  fiercely, 
and  it  required  no  little  dexterity  on  the  part  of 

1  Bachle.     Old  shoe. 


THE  ENTAIL 


319 


/ 


her  daughter-in-law  to  allay  the  altercation  which 
ensued  ;  but  in  the  end  her  endeavours  proved 
successful,  and  the  result  was  an  arrangement 
that  the  child  should  be  left  for  a  day  or  two, 
to  ascertain  whether  Walter's  attachment  ^^as 
dictated  by  caprice  or  a  transfer  of  liis  affections. 
Ami  in  order  to  preserve  quiet,  and  to  prevent 
any  extravagance  that  might  be  injurious  to  the 
little  girl,  it  was  also  arranged  that  her  mother 
and  brother  should  likewise  spend  a  few  weeks 
at  Grippy. 


\ 


CHAPTER  LI 

J.  HE  news  of  the  arrangement,  wlien  com- 
municated to  Dr  Denholm  and  George  at  the 
funeral  next  day,  produced  on  them  very  opposite 
effects.  Tlie  minister,  who  was  naturally  of  a 
warm  and  benevolent  disposition,  persuaded  him- 
self that  the  proposal  of  Walter  to  receive  his 
sister-in-law  and  her  family  was  dictated  by  a 
sense  of  duty  and  of  religion,  and  regretted  that 
he  had  so  hastily  expressed  himself  so  strongly 
respecting  his  incapacity.  Indeed,  every  one  who 
heard  the  story  put  upon  it  nearly  the  same  sort 
of  construction,  and  applauded  the  uncouth  kind- 
ness of  the  natural  as  brotherly  and  Christian. 

George,  however,  saw  it  perhaps  more  cor- 
rectly ;  but  he  was  exceedingly  disturbed  by  the 
favourable  impression  which  it  made  on  the  minds 
of  his  acquaintance,  and  hesitated  to  indulge  his 
desire  to  obtain  the  management  of  the  estate. 
But  still  he  continued  his  visits  to  Grippy,  and 
took  every  opportunity  of  drawing  the  attention 
of  his  friends  to  the  imbecility  of  his  brother. 
Nothing,  however,  occurred  to  further  his  wishes 
till   the    term   of   Martinmas  after  the    incident 

320 


THE  ENTAIL 


321 


len    corn- 


mentioned  in  the  foregoing  chapter,  when,  on 
receiving  his  rents,  he  presented  his  sister-in-law 
with  a  ten-pound  note,  at  the  same  time  counting 
out,  to  the  calculation  of  a  halfpenny,  the  balance 
he  owed  his  mother  of  her  jointure,  but  absolutely 
refusing  to  repay  her  any  of  the  money  she  had  in 
the  meantime  disbursed  for  different  little  house- 
hold concerns  and  repairs, — saying  that  all  she 
had  laid  out  was  nothing  in  comparison  to  what 
she  was  due  for  bed  tmd  board.  This  was  the  un- 
kindest  cut  of  all;  for  slie  justly  and  truly  esti- 
mated her  services  to  him  as  of  far  more  value. 
However,  she  said  nothing  ;  but  next  day,  on  the 
pretext  of  going  to  see  her  mother,  who  was  now 
very  infirm,  and  unable  to  quit  her  chamber,  she 
went  to  Glasgow  and  called  on  George,  to  whom 
she  made  a  loud  and  long  complaint  of  the  insults 
she  had  received,  and  of  the  total  unfitness  and 
unwortliiness  of  his  brother  to  continue  uncon- 
trolled in  the  possession  of  the  estate. 

George  sympathised  with  her  sorrows  and  her 
sufferings  like  a  dutiful  son,  and  comforted  her 
with  the  assurance  that  he  would  lose  no  time  in 
taking  some  steps  for  her  relief  and  the  preserva- 
tion of  the  property  ;  and,  as  she  consented  to 
remain  that  day  to  dinner,  it  was  thought  that, 
considering  the  disposition  Walter  had  shown  to 
squander  his  gifts  on  his  sister-in-law,  without 
any  consideration  for  the  rest  of  the  family,  it 
might  be  as  well  to  consult  Mr  Keelevin  on  the 

occasion.     A  message  accordingly  was  des|)atched 
VOL.  r.  X 


322 


THE  ENTAIL 


to  the  honest  lawyer,  besfc^inc^  him  to  call  after 
dinner ;  in  short,  every  demonstration  was  made 
by  Geor<re  to  convince  his  mother  how  much 
better  her  worth  was  appreciated  by  him  than  by 
his  brother.  And  she  was  not  only  consoled,  but 
delighted  with  the  sincerity  of  his  attentions. 

In  due  time  Mr  Keelevin  made  his  appear- 
ance ;  and  the  leddy  began  a  strong  representa- 
tion of  all  the  indignities  which  she  had  endured, 
but  her  son  softly  and  mildly  interposed,  saying — 

''It  is  of  no  use,  my  dear  mother,  to  trouble 
Mr  Keelevin  with  these  things ;  he  knows  the 
infirmities  of  Walter  as  well  as  we  do.  No  doubt," 
he  added,  turning  to  the  lawyer,  ''you  have 
heard  of  the  very  extraordinary  manner  in  which 
my  brother  took  Mrs  Charles  and  her  family  to 
Grippy." 

"  I  really,"  replied  the  honest-hearted  man, 
"  had  no  idea  that  he  possessed  so  nmckle  feeling 
and  common-sense,  but  I  was  very  happy  to  heart. 
For,  his  own  wean  being  no  more,  I'm  sure  he 
can  do  nothing  better  than  make  up  to  the  dis- 
inherited orphans  some  portion  of  that  which,  but 
for  your  father's  sudden  death,  would  hae  been 
provided  for  them." 

George  knew  not  what  reply  to  make  to  this  ; 
but  his  mother,  who,  like  the  rest  of  her  sex, 
had  an  answer  for  all  subjects  and  occasions 
ever  ready,  said — 

"  It's  weel  to  ca't  sense  and  feeling,  but  if  I 
were  obligated  to  speak  the  truth,  I  would  baptize 


THE  ENTAIL 


32.3 


it  wi'  another  name.     It's  no  to  be  rehearsed  by 

• 

the  tongue  o'  man,  Mr  Keelevin,  what  I  hae  borne 
at  the  hands  of  the  haverel  idiot  since  the  death 
of  him  that's  awa — vour  auld  friend,  Mr  Keelevin. 
He  was  a  man  of  a  capacity,  and  had  lie  been 
spared  a  comfort  to  me,  as  he  was,  and  aye  sae 
couthy  ^  wi'  his  kindness,  I  wouldna  kent  what  it 
is  to  be  a  helpless  widow.  But  surely  there  maun 
be  some  way  o'  remeid  for  us  a'  in  thir  straits  .'* 
It's  no  possible  that  Walter  can  be  alloo't  to 
riot  and  ravage  in  sic  a  most  rabiator-like 
manner — for  I  needna  tell  you  that  he's  ganc 
beyond  all  counsel  and  admonition.  Noo,  do  ye 
think,  Mr  Keelevin,  by  your  knowledge  and  skill 
in  law,  that  we  can  get  him  cognost,  and  the 
rents  and  rule  o'  the  property  ta'en  out  of  his 
hands  ?  For,  if  he  gangs  on  at  the  gait  he's 
going,  I'll  be  herri't,  and  he'll  no  leave  himself 
ae  bawbee  to  rub  on  anither." 

"  What  has  he  done  } "  inquired  the  lawyer  a 
little  thoughtfully. 

"  Done  !  What  has  he  no  done  .'*  He  gied 
Bell  Fatherlans  a  ten-pound  note,  and  was  as 
diire  as  a  smith's  vice  in  the  grip  when  I  wantit 
him  to  refund  me  a  pour  o'  ready-money  that  I 
was  obligated  to  lay  out  for  the  house." 

George,  who  had  watched  the  lawyer's  counte- 
nance in  the  meantime,  said — 

'^  I  doubt,  mother,  few  will  agree  in  thinking 
of  that   in    the    way   you   do.     My   sister-in-law 
1  Couthy.     Affectionate. 


^HH 


324 


THE  ENTAIL 


stands  in  need  of  his  kindness  ;  but  your  jointure 
is  more  than  you  require,  for,  after  all  your  terrible 
outlays,"  and  he  smiled  to  Mr  Keelevin  as  he  said 
the  words,  "you  have  already  saved  money." 

"  But  what's  that  to  him  ?  "  exclaimed  the  leddy. 
"  Isna  a  just  debt  a  just  debt  ? — wasna  he  bound  to 
pay  what  I  paid  for  him  ? — and  is't  no  like  a  daft 
man  and  an  idiot  to  say  he'll  no  do't  ?  I'm  sure, 
Mr  Keelevin,  I  needna  tell  you  that  Watty  was 
ne'er  truly  concos-montes.  How  ye  got  him 
made  sound  in  his  intellectuals  when  the  law- 
plea  was  about  my  father's  will  ye  ken  best 
yoursel' ;  but  the  stramash  ^  that  was  thereanent 
is  a  thing  to  be  remembered." 

Mr  Keelevin  gave  a  profound  sigh,  adding^  in  a 
sort  of  apologistic  manner, — 

"  But  Walter  has  maybe  undergone  some  change 
since  that  time  }  " 

"Yes,"  said  George;  "the  grief  and  conster- 
nation into  which  he  was  thrown  by  the  sudden 
death  of  his  wife  had  undoubtedly  a  great  effect 
on  his  mind." 

"  He  was  clean  dementit  at  that  time,"  cried 
the  leddy  ;  "  he  would  neither  buff  nor  stye  -  for 
father  nor  mother,  friend  nor  foe ;  a'  the  king's 
forces  wouldna  hae  gart  him  carry  his  wife's  head 
in  a  wiselike  manner  to  the  kirkyard.  I'm  sure, 
Mr  Keelevin — for  ye  were  at  the  burial — ye  may 

1  Stranmsh.     Uproar. 

2  Buff  nor  stye.     A  peculiar  uso  of  the  term,  that  may  be 
rendered,  "  One  thing  nor  another." 


our  jointure 
^'our  terrible 
n  as  he  said 
loney." 
d  the  leddy. 
he  bound  to 
)  like  a  daft 
?     I'm  sure, 

Watty  was 
^e  got  him 
;n  the  law- 
e   ken    best 

thereanent 

adding,,  in  a 


)Ome  change 


md  conster- 
the  sudden 
great  effect 

time/'  cried 

lor  stye  -  for 

the  king's 

wife's  head 

I'm  sure, 

ial — ye  may 

n,  that  may  be 


THE  ENTAIL 


325 


mind  that  her  fither,  Kilmarkccklc,  had  to  do't, 
and  lost  his  canary  snuff  by  a  twirl  o'  the  wind 
when  he  was  taking  a  pinch,  as  they  said,  after 
lowering  her  head  intil  the  grave,  which  was 
thought,  at  the  time,  a  most  unparcnt-like  action 
for  any  man  to  be  about  at  his  only  dochter's 
burial." 

Mr  Keelevin  replied,  '^  I  will  honestly  confess 
to  you  that  I  do  think  there  has  of  late  been  signs 
of  a  want  about  Mr  Walter ;  but  in  his  kindness 
to  his  poor  brother's  widow  and  family  there's 
great  proof  and  evidence  both  of  a  sound  mind, 
reason,  and  a  right  heart.  Ye'll  just,  Mrs  Walkin- 
shaw,  hae  to  fight  on  wi'  him  as  well  as  ye  can ; 
for,  in  the  conscience  o'  me,  I  would,  knowing 
what  I  know  of  the  family,  be  wae  and  sorry 
to  disturb  such  a  consolatory  manifestation  of 
brotherly  love." 

"That's  just  my  opinion/*  said  George,  "and  I 
would  fain  persuade  my  mother  to  put  up  with 
the  slights  and  ill-usage  to  which  she  is  so  dis- 
tressingly subjected ;  at  the  same  time,  I  cannot 
say  but  I  have  my  fears  that  her  situation  is  likely 
to  be  made  worse  rather  than  better,  for  Walter 
appears  disposed  not  only  to  treat  her  in  a  very 
mean  and  unworthy  manner,  but  to  give  the  whole 
dominion  of  the  house  to  Mrs  Charles." 

"  Na,"  exclaimed  the  leddy,  kindling  at  this 
dexterous  awakening  of  her  wrongs.  "  He  did 
far  waur ;  he  a'maist  turned  me  out  o'  the  house 
by  the  shouthers." 


■^W' 


*^  ''*i^ 


3y(i 


THE  ENTAIL 


tt 


Did  he  lay  hands  on  you,  his  motlier  ? "  in- 
quired Mr  Keeievin  witli  his  })rofessional  accent 
and  earnestness.  But  George  prevented  her  from 
replyin<r,  by  sayin<if  tliat  liis  mother  naturally  felt 
much  molested  in  receiving  so  harsh  a  return 
for  the  particular  partiality  with  which  she  had 
always  treated  his  brother ;  and  was  proceeding 
in  his  wily  and  insidious  manner  to  fan  the  flame 
he  scijK^.ed  so  anxious  to  smother.  Mr  Keeievin, 
bf  vr^^/i-  ■  of  a  sudden  appeared  to  detect  his  drift, 
ant  ^ave  jv.m  such  a  rebukinj;  look  that  he  became 
confused  and  embarrassed,  during  which  the  honest 
lawyer  rose  and  wished  them  good  afternoon ; 
saying  to  George,  who  accompanied  him  to  the 
door, — 

"  The  deil  needs  baith  a  syde  cloak  and  a  wary 
step  to  hide  his  cloven  foot.  I'll  say  nae  mair, 
Mr  George ;  but  dinna  mak  your  poor  brother's 
bairns  waur  than  they  are ;  and  your  mother 
shouldna  be  eggit  on  in  her  anger,  when  she 
happens,  poor  body,  to  tak  the  dods  now  and  then 
— for  the  most  sensible  of  women  hae  their  turns 
o'  tantrums,  and  need  baith  rein  and  bridle." 


CHAPTER    LII 


X  HOPE  and  trust,"  said  Leddy  Grippy  as 
George  returned  from  conducting  the  lawyer  to 
the  door,  "that  ye'll  hae  inair  compassion  for  your 
mother  than  to  be  swayed  by  the  crooked  counsels 
o'  yon  quirkie  bodie.  I  could  see  v«  a  eel  that 
he  has  a  because  o'  his  ain  for  keej  ng  'bs  thumb 
on  Watty's  unnaturality.  But,  Geordie,  he's  no 
surely  the  only  lawyer  in  the  town  ?  I  wat  there 
are  scores  baith  able  and  willing  U  "  ak  the  business 
by  the  hand  ;  and  if  there  should  be  nane  o'  a 
sufficient  capacity  in  Glasgow,  just  tak  a  step  in 
till  Embro',  where,  I  hae  often  heard  my  honest 
father  say,  there  are  legions  o'  a  capacity  to  con- 
test wi'  Belzebub  himsel'." 

"  I  am  very  anxious,  mother,  to  do  everything 
to  promote  your  happiness,"  was  the  reply  ;  "  but 
the  world  will  be  apt  to  accuse  me  of  being 
actuated  by  some  sinister  and  selfish  motive.  It 
would  be  most  disgraceful  to  me  were  I  to  fail." 

"  It  will  be  a  black-burning  shame  to  alloo  a 
daft  man  any  longer  to  rule  and  govern  us  like  a 
tyrant  wi'  a  rod  o'  iron,  pooking  and  rooking  me, 
liis  mother,  o'  my  ain  lawful  jointure  and  honest 


32H 


THE  ENTAIL 


li.'iininf]fs,^  forbye  skailini^  and  scattcriniij  his  in- 
Iieritaiice  in  a  manner  as  if  tcn-poiuul  notes  were 
tree-leaves  at  Hallowe'en." 

"  I  am  quite  sensible  of  the  truth  and  justice  of 
all  you  say  ;  but  you  know  the  uncertainty  of  the 
law/'  said  George,  "and  the  consequences  would 
be  fatal  to  me  were  we  not  to  succeed." 

*'  And  what  will  be  the  consequences  if  he  were 
taking  it  in  his  head  to  marry  again  ?  He  would 
mak  nae  scruple  of  sending  me  off  frae  (Jrippy  at 
an  hour's  warning." 

This  touched  the  keenest  nerve  of  her  son's 
anxieties;  and  he  was  immediately  alarmed  by  a 
long  vi»sionary  vista  of  unborn  sons,  rising  between 
him  and  the  succession  to  the  estate ; — but  he  only 
appeared  to  sympathise  with  his  mother. 

"  It's  not  possible/'  said  he,  "  even  were  he  to 
many  again,  that  he  could  be  so  harsh.  You  have 
lived  ever  since  your  marriage  with  my  father  at 
Grippy.  It's  your  home,  and  endeared  to  you  by 
many  pleasing  recollections.  It  would  be  extreme 
cruelty  now,  in  your  declining  years,  to  force  you 
to  live  in  the  close  air,  and  up  the  dirty  turnpike 
stairs  o'  Glasgow." 

"  It  would  soon  be  the  death  o'  me,"  exclaimed 
the  leddy,  with  a  sigh,  wiping  one  of  her  eyes  with 
the  corner  of  her  apron.  "  In  short,  Geordie,  if 
ye  dinna  step  out  and  get  him  put  past  the  power 
o'  marrying,  I'll  regard  you  as  little  better  than 
art  and  part  in  his  idiocety.  But  it's  time  I  were 
1  Hainlnys.     Earnings, 


THE  ENTAIL 


:V29 


yiuir   his   in- 
nott's  were 

1(1  justice  of 
linty  of  the 
*nces  would 

^  if  he  were 
He  would 
e  CJrippy  at 

f  her  son's 
irmed  by  a 
ig  between 
but  he  only 
r. 

were  he  to 
You  have 
ly  father  at 
1  to  you  by 
be  extreme 
0  force  you 
y  turnpike 

exclaimed 
r  eyes  with 
Geordie,  if 
the  power 
etter  than 
nie  I  were 


taking  the  road,  for  they'll  a'  be  marvelliii<if  what 
keeps  me.  There's,  however,  ae  thiii;^  I  would 
advise  you,  and  that  is  ;  Tak  (rmlc  care  and  no 
mint  what  we  hae  been  spi'akin*;  o'  to  living 
creature  ;  for  nobody  can  tell  what  detriment  the 
born  idiot  niii;lit  do  to  us  baith  were  he  to  ^et  an 
inkliujL!;  before  a's  ready  to  put  the  strait-waistcoat 
o'  the  law  on  him ;  so  I  redde  you  set  about  it  in 
a  wary  and  wily  manner,  that  he  may  hae  nae  cause 
to  jealouse  your  intent." 

There  was,  however,  no  great  occasion  for  the 
latter  part  of  this  speech,  Cieorge  being  perfectly 
aware  of  all  the  difficulties  and  delicacies  of  the 
case  ;  but  he  said — 

"  Did  he  ever  attempt  actually  to  strike  you  .'* " 

"  Oh,  no  !  "  rej)lied  his  mother  ;  "  to  do  the  fool 
thing  justice,  it's  kindly  enougb  in  its  manner; 
only  it  will  neither  be  governed  nor  guided  by 
me  as  it  used  to  be,  which  is  a  sore  trial." 

"Because,"  rejoined  George,  "had  he  ever 
dared  to  do  so,  there  woukl  then  have  been  less 
trouble  or  scruple  in  instituting  proceedings 
against  him." 

"  Na  ;  an'  it's  ony  way  to  commode  the  business, 
we  might  soon  provoke  him  to  lift  his  hand  ;  but 
it's  a  powerful  creature,  and  I'm  fear't.  However, 
Geordie,  ye  might  lay  yoursel'  out  for  a  bit  slaik 
o'  its  paw ;  so  just  come  ouer  the  morn's  morning 
and  try,  for  it'll  no  do  to  stand  shilly-shallying,  if 
we  hope  to  mak  a  right  legality  o't." 

Cowardice  is  the  best  auxiliary  to  the  police; 


330 


THE  ENTAIL 


and  George  had  discretion  enougli  not  to  risk 
the  d.'in«]jer  of  rousinj^  the  slcej)in«if  lion  of  his 
brother's  Herculean  sinews.  Ikit,  in  other  re- 
spects, he  t(K)k  his  mother's  advice  ;  and,  avoid- 
ing the  guilt  of  causing  an  offence,  in  order  that 
he  might  be  able  to  prosecute  the  offender,  he 
applied  to  Gabriel  Pitwinnoch,  the  writer,  from 
whose  character  he  expected  to  encounter  fewer 
scruples  and  less  scrutiny  than  with  Mr  Keelevin. 

In  the  meantime  the  leddy,  who  had  returned 
home  to  Grippy,  })reserved  the  most  entire  reserve 
upon  the  subject  to  all  the  inmates  of" the  family, 
and  acted  her  j)art  so  well  that  even  a  much 
more  suspicious  observer  than  her  daughter-in- 
law  would  never  have  suspected  he."  of  double 
dealing.  Indeed,  any  change  that  could  be  per- 
ceived in  her  manner  was  calculated  to  lull  every 
suspicion ;  for  she  appeared  more  than  usually 
considerate  and  attentive  towards  Walter,  and 
even  condescended  to  wheedle  and  coax  him  on 
different  occasions,  when  it  would  have  been 
more  consonant  to  her  wonted  behaviour  had  she 
employed  commands  and  reproaches. 

In  the  course  of  a  week  after  the  interview 
with  Mr  Keelevin,  George  went  to  Edinburgh, 
and  he  was  accompanied  in  his  journey  by  the 
■wary  Gabriel  Pitwinnoch.  What  passed  between 
them  on  the  road,  and  whom  they  saw  and  what 
advice  they  received  in  the  intellectual  city,  we 
need  not  be  particular  in  relating ;  but  the  result 
was  that,  about  a  week  after  their  return,  Gabriel 


TIIK  ENTAIL 


Slil 


not   to    risk 
lion   of  his 
1   other   re- 
nm\,  Hvoid- 
order  tliat 
jfrender,  he 
writer,  from 
unter  fewer 
Ir  Keck'vin. 
.1(1  reiurned 
itire  reserve 
the  family, 
en   a  much 
lau^hter-in- 
■  of  double 
uld  be  per- 
;o  lull  every 
han    usually 
»Valter,   and 
oax  him  on 
have    been 
our  had  she 

B  interview 
Edinburgh, 
ney  by  the 
ed  between 
V  and  what 
•al  city,  we 
:  the  result 
rn,  Gabriel 


came  to  Orippy,  accompanied  by  a  stranger,  of 
whose  conse(juenee  and  rank,  it  would  appear, 
the  leddy  had  some  previous  knowledge,  as  she 
deported  herself  towards  him  with  a  degree  of 
ceremonious  deference  very  unusual  to  her  habits. 
The  str^mger,  indeed,  was  no  less  a  personage 
than  Mr  Threeper,  the  advocate,  a  gentleman  of 
long  standing  and  great  practice  in  the  I*arliament 
House,  and  much  celebrated  for  his  shrewd  per- 
ception of  technical  Haws  and  clever  discrimina- 
tion of  those  nicer  points  of  the  law  that  are  so 
often  at  variance  with  justice. 

It  happened  that,  when  this  learned  doctor  of 
the  Caledonian  Padua  arrived  with  his  worthy 
associate,  Mrs  Charles  W'alkinshaw  was  in  the 
fields  ;  but,  the  moment  her  son  James  saw  him, 
he  was  so  struck  with  his  aj)j)earance  that  he 
ran  to  tell  her.  Walter  also  followed  him,  under 
the  influence  of  the  same  feeling,  and  said — 

"Come  in.  Hell  Fatherlans,  and  see  what  a 
warld's  w(jn'er  Pitwinnoch  the  writer  has  brought 
to  our  house.  My  mother  says  it's  a  haudthecat, 
and  that  it  g-'ings  about  the  town  o'  Embro',  walk- 
ing afore  the  Lords  in  a  black  gown,  wi'  a  wig 
on'ts  head.  I  marvel  what  the  creature's  come 
here  for.  It  has  a  silver  snuff-box,  that  it's  aye 
pat-patting ;  and  ye  would  think,  to  hear  it 
speak,  that  King  Solomon,  wi'  a'  his  hundreds  o' 
wives  and  concubines,  was  but  a  fool  to  him." 

Mrs  Charles  was  alarmed  at  hearing  of  such  a 
visitor ;  for  the  journey  of  George  and  Pitwiniioch 


332 


THE  ENTAIL 


to  E(linhuri]!;li  immediately  occurred  to  her,  and 
a  feelinpf  of  compassion,  minified  with  f^ratitude 
for  the  kindness  which  Walter  had  lately  shown 
to  herself  and  her  children,  su'.^gested  that  she 
ought  to  put  him  on  his  guard. 

"Walter,"  said  she,  "I  would  not  advise  you 
to  go  near  the  house  while  the  two  lawyers  are 
there — for  who  knows  what  they  may  do  to  you  ? 
But  go  as  fast  as  ye  can  to  Glasgow,  and  tell  Mr 
Keelevin  what  has  happened ;  and  say  that  I 
have  some  reason  to  fear  it's  a  visit  that  bodes 
you  no  good,  and  therefore  ye'll  stand  in  need  of 
his  advice  and  assistance." 

The  natural,  who  had  an  instinctive  horror  of 
the  law,  made  no  reply,  but,  with  a  strong  expres- 
sion of  terror  in  his  countenance,  immediately 
left  her,  and  went  straight  to  Glasgow. 


o  her,  and 
li  gratitude 
tcly  shown 
d   that  she 


advise  you 
awyers  are 
do  to  you  ? 
ind  tell  Mr 
say  that  I 
that  bodes 
in  need  of 

e  horror  of 
m<r  expres- 
nmediately 


CHAPTER   LlII 

XJURIXG  the  journey  of  George  and  Pitwinnoch 
to  Edinburgh,  a  Brief  of  Cliancery  liad  been 
(juietly  obtained,  directing  the  sherilf  of  the 
county  to  summon  a  jury,  to  examine  into  the 
alleged  fatuity  of  Walter ;  and  the  visit  of  the 
latter  with  Mr  Threeper,  the  advocate,  to  Gri})py, 
was  to  meet  George,  for  the  purpose  of  deter- 
mining with  respect  to  the  evidence  that  it  might 
be  requisite  to  adduce  before  the  inquest.  All 
this  was  conducted,  as  it  was  intended  to  appear, 
in  a  spirit  of  the  greatest  delicacy  towards  the 
unfortunate y <'//</ //.v,  consistent  with  the  administra- 
tion of  public  justice. 

"  I  can  assure  you,"  said  our  friend  Gabriel  to 
Mr  Threeper  as  they  walked  towards  the  house 
— the  advocate  perusing  the  ground  as  he  poked 
his  way  along  with  his  cane,  and  occasionally 
taking  snuff — ''  I  ciin  assure  you  that  nothing  but 
the  most  imperious  necessity  could  have  induced 
Mr  George  Widkinshaw  to  institute  these  j)ro- 
ceedings  ;  for  he  is  a  gentleman  of  the  utmost 
respectability,  and,  to  my  knowledge,  has  been 
long  and   often  urged  in  vain  to  get  his  br jlher 


334> 


THE  ENTAIL 


cognost;  but,  until  the  idiot's  conduct  became 
so  intolerable  that  his  mother  could  no  longer 
endure  it,  lie  was  quite  inexorable." 

"  Is  Mr  Creorge  in  affluent  circumstances  ?  "  said 
the  advocate  dryly. 

''  He  is  but  a  young  man  ;  the  house,  however, 
in  which  he  is  a  partner  is  one  of  the  most 
flourishing  in  (ilasgow,"  was  the  answer. 

"  He  has,  j)erhaps,  a  large  family'  }  " 

"  Oh  dear,  no !  only  one  daughter ;  and  his 
wife,"  said  Gabriel,  ^'is,  I  understand,  not  likely 
to  have  any  more." 

"She  may,  however,  have  sons,  Pitwinn^ch," 
rejoined  the  advocate  wittily,  at  the  same  time 
taking  snuff.  ''  But  you  say  it  is  the  mother  that 
has  chiefly  incited  Mr  Walkinshaw  to  this  action." 

"  So  he  told  me,"  replied  the  writer. 

"  Her  evidence  Avill  be  most  important ;  for  it 
is  not  natural  that  a  mother  would  urge  a  process 
of  such  a  nature  without  very  strong  grounds 
indeed,  unless  she  has  some  immediate  or  distinct 
prospective  interest  in  the  result.  Have  you  any 
idea  that  such  is  the  case  }  " 

"I  should  think  not,"  said  Gabriel. 

"  Do  you  imagine  that  such  allowance  as  the 
Court  might  gr.int  for  the  custody  of  the  fafuus 
would  have  any  influence  with  her?"  inquired  Mr 
Threeper,  without  raising  his  eyes  from  the  road. 

"  I  have  always  understood,"  was  the  reply, 
"that  she  is  in  the  possession,  not  onlj'  of  a  hand- 
some jointure,  but  of  a   considerable  provision. 


THE  ENTAIL 


3.Sr) 


ct  became 
IK)  longer 

ces  ?  "  said 

',  liowever, 
the    most 


;  and  his 
not  likely 

winnf^ch/' 
5ame  time 
other  that 
is  action." 

mt ;  for  it 
!  a  process 
J  grounds 
3r  distinct 
e  you  any 


ce  as  the 
;he  fatuus 
jnired  Mr 
the  road, 
lie  reply, 
f  a  hand- 
provision, 


specially  disponed  to  her  by  the  will  of  old  Plea- 
lands,  her  father." 

"  Ah  !  was  she  the  dauq-hter  of  old  Plealands  ?  " 
said  the  advocate.  "  It  was  in  a  cause  of  his  that 
I  was  first  retained.  He  had  the  spirit  of  litiga- 
tion in  a  very  zealous  degree." 

In  this  manner  the  two  redressers  of  wrongs 
chattingly  proceeded  towards  Grippy,  by  appoint- 
ment, to  meet  George  ;  and  they  arrived,  as  we 
have  related  in  the  foregoing  chaj)ter,  a  few 
minutes  before  he  made  his  appearance. 

In  the  meantime  Watty  hastened  with  ra])id 
steps,  goaded  by  a  mysterious  apprehension  of 
some  impending  danger,  to  the  counting-house 
of  Mr  Keelevin,  whom  he  found  at  his  desk. 

"  Weel,  Mr  Walter,"  said  the  honest  writer, 
looking  up  from  a  deed  he  was  perusing,  some- 
what surprised  at  seeing  him,  '^  What's  the  best 
o'  your  news  the  day,  and  what's  brought  you 
frae  Grippy  ?  " 

"  Mr  Keelevin,"  replied  Walter,  going  towards 
him  on  tiptoe  and  whispc^ring  audibly  in  his  ear, 
^^ril  tell  you  something,  Mr  Keelevin ; — twa  gleds^ 
o'  the  law  hae  lighted  yonder ;  and  ye  ken,  by 
your  ain  ways,  that  the  likes  o'  them  dinna  flee 
afield  for  naething." 

"No  possible!"  exclaimed  Mr  Keelevin;  and 
the  recollection  of  his  interview  with  (ieorge  and 
the  leddy  flashing  upon  him  at  the  moment,  he 
at    once    divined    the   object  of  their  visit,  and 

^  Glcds.    Kites. 


336 


THE  ENTAIL 


added,  "  It's  most  abominable  ; — but  ko'  \  e  what 
they're  seeking,  Mr  Walter?" 

"  No/'  said  he.  "  But  Bell  Fatln  /l-irs  bade  me 
come  and  tell  you ;  for  she  thought  I  might  need 
your  counsel." 

"She  has  acted  a  true  friend's  part,  and  I'm 
glad  yc're  come,"  replied  the  lawyer;  "and,  for 
her  and  her  bairns'  sake,  I  hope  we'll  be  ;ible  to 
defeat  tlieir  plots  and  devices.  But  I  would 
advise  you,  Mr  Walter,  to  keep  out  o'  harm's 
way,  aiid  no  gang  in  the  gait  o'  the  gleds,  as 
ye  ca'  them." 

"  Hae  ye  ony  ark  or  amrie,  Mr  Keclevin,  where 
a  body  might  den  himsel'  till  they're  out  o'  the 
gait  and  away  ?  "  cried  Walter  timidly,  and  look- 
ing anxiously  round  the  room. 

"Ye  shouldna  speak  sic  havers,  Mr  Walter, 
))ut  conduct  yourself  mair  like  a  man,"  said  his 
legal  friend  grievedly.  "  Indeed,  Mr  Walter, 
as  I  hae  some  notion  that  they're  come  to 
tiik  down  your  words, — maybe  to  spy  your  con- 
duct, and  mak  iiae  jijude  report  thereon  to  their 
superiors, — tak  m}'  advice,  and  speak  as  little  as 
possible." 

"I'll  no  say  ae  word;  I'll  be  a  dumbie  ;  I'll  sit 
as  (juiet  as  ony  anc  o'  the  images  afore  liailie 
Glasford's  house  at  tlie  head  o'  the  Stoekwell. 
King  William  himsel',  on  his  bell-metal  horse  at 
the  Cross,  is  a  ])oj)idar  preacher,  Mr  Keelevin, 
compared  to  what  I'll  be." 

The   sim})licity  and   sincerity  with  which   this 


\ 


\  e  Avhat 


IPS  bade  me 
might  need 


rt,  and  I'm 
•;  *'and,  for 
he  ;ible  to 
ut  I  would 
t  o'  Iiarm's 
le   gleds,  as 

evin,  where 
5  out  o'  the 
y,  and  look- 
Mr  Walter, 
n/'  said  his 
Mr  Walter, 
?,  come  to 
r'  your  con- 
on  to  their 

as  little  as 

hie  :  I'll  sit 
ifore  Bailie 
Stockwell. 
tal  horse  at 
•   Keelevin, 

M'hich   this 


THE  ENTAIL 


33T 


was  said  moved  the  kind-hearted  hnvy^r  at  once 
to  smile  and  sigh. 

"There  will,  I  hope,  Mr  Wjilter,"  said  he,  "be 
no  occasit)n  to  put  any  restraint  like  that  upon 
yoursel'  ;  only  it's  my  advice  to  you,  as  a  friend, 
to  enter  into  no  conversation  with  any  one  you  do 
not  well  know,  and  to  dress  in  your  best  clothes, 
and  shave  yoursel',  and  in  a'  things  demean  and 
deport  yoursel'  like  the  laird  o'  Kittlestoiihcugh 
and  the  representative  of  an  ancient  and  respected 
family." 

"  Oh,  I  can  easily  do  that  !  "  replied  the  natural ; 
"and  I'll  tak  my  father's  ivory-headed  cane,  with 
the  gold'  n  virl,  and  the  silver  e'e  for  a  tassel,  frae 
ahint  the  scrutoire,  where  it  has  f«ve  stood  since 
his  death,  and  walk  up  nnd  down  i.ie  front  of  the 
house  like  a  Glasgow  magistrate." 

"  For  the  love  o'  heaven,  Mr  Walter,"  exclaimed 
the  lawyer,  "  do  nae  sic  mad-like  action  !  The  like 
o'  that  is  a'  thev  want." 

"  In  whatna  otiier  way,  then,  '  said  Walter 
helplessly,  "  can  I  behave  like  a  gentleman,  or  a 
laird  o'  yird  and  stane,  wi'  the  retinue  o'  an  ancient 
pedigree  like  my  father's,  Walkinshaw's  o'  Kittle- 
stonheugh  }  " 

"  'Deed,"  said  Mr  Keelevin  com|>assionately, 
"I'm  wae  to  say't — but  I  doot,  I  (loot,  it's  past 
the  compass  o'  my  power  to  advise  v<)«u." 

"I'm  sure,"  exclaimed  Walter  (U'spairingly, 
"that  THE  Maker  was  ill  alf  for  a  turn  when  lie 
took  to  the  creating  o'  lawyers.    The  deils  are  but 


VOL.    I. 


Y 


338 


THE  ENTAIL 


'prentice  work  compared  to  them.  I  diiina  ken 
what  to  do,  Mr  Keelevin — I  wisli  that  I  was 
dead;  but  I'm  no  Hke  to  dee,  as  Jenny  says  in 
her  wally-wac  about  her  fatlier's  cov/  and  auld 
Robin  Gray." 

"  Mr  Walter/'  said  his  friend,  after  a  pause  of 
several  minutes,  "  go  you  to  Mrs  Hypel,  your 
grandmother,  for  the  present,  and  I'll  out  to 
Grippy  and  sift  the  meaning  o'  this  visitation. 
When  I  have  gathered  what  it  means,  we'll  hae 
the  better  notion  in  what  way  we  ought  to  figlit 
with  the  foe." 

"  I'll  smash  them  like  a  forehammer,"  exclaimed 
Walter  proudly.  "  I'll  stand  ahint  a  dike,  and  gie 
them  a  belter  ^  wi'  stanes  till  I  haena  left  the 
souls  in  their  bodies — that's  what  I  will,  if  ye 
ap{)rove  o't,  Mr  Keelevin." 

"  Weel,  wcel,  Mr  Walter,"  was  the  chagrined 
and  grieved  reply,  "  we'll  see  to  that  when  I 
return  ;  but  it's  a  terrible  thing  to  think  o'  prov- 
ing a.  man  uoii  conipofi  mvulis  for  the  oidy  sensible 
action  he  ever  did  in  all  his  life.  Nevertheless, 
I  will  not  let  myself  despond  ;  and  I  have  only 
for  the  present  to  exhort  you  to  get  yoursel'  in 
a'i  order  and  fitness  to  appear  as  ye  ought  to  be, 
for  really,  Mr  Walter,  ye  alloo  yoursel*  to  gang 
pao  like  a  divor  that  I  dinna  wonder  ye  liae  been 
X&ti\  notice  o'.  So  I  counsel  you  to  mak  yoursel' 
trig,  nnd  no  to  play  ony  antics." 

Waiter  assured  him  that  his  advice  would  in 
'  Belter.     Blows  rc'iieatcd. 


THE  ENTAIL 


339 


dinna  ken 
hut  I  was 
my  says  in 
J  and  auld 

a  pause  of 
y])el,  your 
['11  out  to 
visitation. 
;,  we'll  liae 
;ht  to  fi^lit 

exclaimed 
ie,  and  gie 
la  left  the 
will,  if  ye 

chagrined 
t  when  I 
ik  o'  prov- 
ly  sensible 
vertheless, 

have  only 
y'oursel'  in 
ight  to  be, 
r  to  gang 
I  hae  been 
ik  yoursel' 


every  respect  be  followed,  and,  leaving  the  office, 
he  went  straight  to  the  residence  of  his  grand- 
mother ;  while  Mr  Keelevin,  actuated  at  once  by 
his  humanity  and  professional  duty,  ordered  his 
horse,  and  reached  Grippy  just  as  the  advocate, 
Mr  Pitwinnoch,  and  George  were  on  the  point 
of  coming  away,  after  waiting  in  vain  for  the 
return  of  Walter,  whom  Mr  Threeper  was  de- 
sirous of  conversing  with  personally. 


would  in 


CHAPTER    LIV 

J.  HE  triumvirate  and  Ledtly  Grij)py  were  dis- 
concerted at  the  appearance  of  Mr  Keelevin, — for 
at  that  moment  the  result  of  Mr  Threeper's  in- 
quiries among  the  servants  had  put  them  all  in 
the  most  agreeable  and  unanimous  o])inion  with 
respect  to  the  undoubted  certainty  of  poor  Watty's 
fatuity.  ''We  have  just  to  walk  over  the  course," 
the  advocate  was  saying,  when  Oeorge,  hap})ening 
to  glance  his  eye  towards  the  window,  beheld  the 
benevolent  lawyer  coming  up  the  avenue. 

"Good  heavens!"  said  he,  "what  can  that  old 
pest  Keelevin  want  here  }  " 

"  Keelevin  !  "  exclaimed  the  leddy.  "  That's  a 
miracle  to  me.  I  think,  gentlemen,"  she  added, 
"ye  had  as  weel  gang  away  by  the  back-door,  for 
ye  wouldna  like,  maybe,  to  be  fashed  wi'  his  con- 
fabbles.  He's  no  a  man,  or  I'm  far  mista'en, 
that  kens  muckle  about  the  ])erjinketies  o'  the 
law,  though  he  got  the  j)oor  daft  creature  harl't 
through  the  difiiculties  o'  the  plea  wi'  my  cousin 
Gilhaise,  the  Mauchline  maltster.  I'm  very  sure, 
Mr  Threeper,  he's  no  an  accjuaintance  ye  would 
like   to   cultivate,  for  he   hasna   the  talons  o'  an 

340 


THE  ENTAIL 


341 


ic  course, 


advocate  versed  in  the  devices  o'  the  courts,  but 
is  a  quirkie  body,  capable  o'  making  law  no  law 
at  a',  accordin^:^  to  the  best  o'  my  discernment, — 
which,  to  be  sure,  in  matters  o'  locutorie>>  and  de- 
creets, is  but  that  o'  a  hamely  household  woman. 
So  I  would  advise  you  to  eschew  his  company  at 
this  present  time." 

Mr  Threeper,  however,  saw  farther  into  the 
latly's  bosom  than  slie  suspected ;  and  as  it  is 
never  contrary  to  the  interest  of  either  advocate 
or  agent  to  avoid  having  causes  contested,  espe- 
cially when  there  is,  as  was  in  this  case,  substance 
enough  to  support  a  long  and  zealous  litigation, 
that  gentleman  said — 

"Then  Mr  Keelevin  is  the  agent  who  was  em- 
ployed in  the  former  action  ?  " 

"Just  sae,"  resumed  the  leddy ;  "and  ye  ken 
he  couldna,  wi'  ony  regard  to  liimsel',  be  art  and 
part  on  this  occasion." 

"  Ah,  but,  madam,"  re])lied  the  advocate  ear- 
nestly, "  he  may  be  agent  for  the  fatuus.  It  is 
therefore  highly  proper  we  should  set  out  with 
a  right  understanding  respecting  that  point ;  for, 
if  the  allegations  are  to  be  controverted,  it  is  im- 
possible to  foresee  what  obstacles  may  be  raised  : 
although,  in  my  opinion,  from  the  evidence  I  have 
heard,  there  is  no  doubt  that  the  fatuity  of  your 
son  is  a  fact  which  cainiot  fail  to  be  in  the  end 
substantiated.  Don't  you  think,  Mr  Pitwinnoch, 
that  we  had  as  well  see  Mr  Keelevin.''" 

*•  Certainly,  "  said  Gabriel.      "  And  indeed,  con 


34ii 


THE  ENTAIL 


sidi  rin'(  tli.it,  by  tlic  brief  to  tlic  shcriflT,  the  laird 
is  a  party,  perhaps  even  though  Mr  Keelevin  should 
not  have  been  employed,  it  would  be  but  fair,  and 
look  well  towards  the  \\orld,  were  he  instrueted  to 
take  up  this  case  on  behalf  of  the  J atuus.  What 
say  you,  Mr  Walkinshaw  ?  " 

Cieor^e  did  not  w  ell  know  what  to  say,  but  i  • 
replied  that,  for  many  reasons,  he  was  desirous 
the  whole  affair  should  be  managed  as  jn'ivately 
as  possible. 

"  If,  however,  the  forms  of  the  procedure  re- 
quire that  an  agent  should  act  for  Walter,  I  have 
no  objection  ;  at  the  same  time,  i  do  not  think 
Mr  Keelevin  the  fittest  {)erson." 

''Heavens  and  earth!"  exclaimed  the  leddy, 
"here's  a  respondenting  and  a  hearing,  and  the 
Lord  Ordinary  and  a'  the  Fifteen  Lords  frae  Embro* 
come  to  herry  us  out  o*  house  and  hall.  Gentle- 
men, an'  ye'U  tak  my  advice,  who,  in  my  worthy 
father's  time,  had  some  inkling  o'  what  the  cost  o' 
law-pleas  are,  ye'll  hae  naething  to  do  wi'  either 
Keelevin,  Gardevine,  or  ony  other  vines  in  the 
shape  o'  pro  forma  agents,  but  settle  the  business 
wi'  the  slieriff  in  a  douce  and  discreet  manner." 

Mr  Threeper,  looking  towards  Mr  Pitwinnoch 
and  George,  rapped  his  ivory  snuff-box,  rimmed 
and  garnished  with  gold,  and,  smiling,  took  a  pinch 
as  Mr  Keelevin  was  shown  into  the  room. 

"  Mr  George,"  said  Mr  Keelevin  sedately,  after 
being  seated,  "  I  am  not  come  here  to  ask  need- 
less questions,  but,  as  man  of  business   for  your 


THE  ENTAIL 


3Ui 


:ho  laird 
in  should 

fair,  and 
ructcd  to 
What 

y,  but  i  • 
desirous 
j)rivately 

cdure  re- 
ir,  I  have 
lot  think 

le  leddy, 
,  and  the 
le  Ernbro' 
Gentle- 
\y  worthy 
he  cost  o' 
A'i'  either 
?s  in  the 
:  business 
inner." 
twinnoch 
,  rimmed 
>k  a  pinch 

ely,  after 

isk  need- 

for  your 


brother,  it  will  be  necessary  to  serve  me  with 
the  proper  notices  as  to  what  you  intend." 

Mr  Threeper  a<Tain  had  recourse  to  his  box, 
and  Ciabriel  looked  in()uinn«rly  at  his  client, 
who  could  with  difficulty  conceal  his  confusion, 
while  the  old  lady,  who  had  much  more  presence 
of  mind,  said  — 

"  May  I  be  sae  bold,  Mr  Keelevin,  as  to  speer 
wha  sent  you  hero  at  this  time  }" 

"  I  came  at  Mr  Walter's  own  particular  and 
personal  request,"  was  the  reply  ;  and  he  turned 
at  the  same  time  towards  the  advocate,  and  added, 
"That  does  not  look  very  like  fatuity." 

"  He  never  could  hae  done  that  o'  his  own  free- 
will. I  shouldna  wonder  if  the  interloper.  Bell 
Fatherlans,  sent  him;  but  I'll  soon  get  to  the 
bottom  o't !  "  exclaimed  the  leddv,  and  she  im- 
mediately  left  the  room  in  cpiest  of  Mrs  Cha"les, 
to  inquire.  During  her  absence  Mr  Keelevin 
resumed — 

"  It  is  not  to  be  contested,  Mr  Threeper,"  for 
he  knew  the  person  of  the  advocate,  "  that  the 
laird  is  a  man  o*  singularities  and  oddities — we  a' 
hae  our  foibles ;  but  he  got  a  gude  education,  and 
his  schoolmaster  bore  testimony  on  a  former  occa- 
sion to  his  capacity ;  and  if  it  can  be  shown  that 
he  does  not  manage  his  estate  so  advantageously 
as  he  might  do,  surely  that  can  never  be  objected 
against  him,  when  we  every  day  see  so  many  o'  the 
wisest  o'  our  lairds,  and  lords,  and  country  gentry, 
falling  to  pigs  and  whistles,  frae  even-doun  inatten- 


'H'. 


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IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


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Sciences 
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344 


THE  ENTAIL 


tion  or  prodigality.  I  think  it  will  be  no  easy 
thing  to  prove  Mr  Walter  incapable  o'  managing 
his  own  affairs,  with  his  mother's  assistance." 

"  Ah,  Mr  Keelevin !  with  his  mother's  assist- 
ance !  "  exclaimed  the  acute  Mr  Threeper.  '^  It's 
time  that  he  were  out  of  leading-strings,  and 
able  to  take  care  of  himself,  without  his  mother's 
assistance — if  he's  ever  likely  to  do  so." 

At  this  crisis  the  Icddy  returned  into  the  room 
flushed  with  anger.  "  It's  just  as  I  jealoused," 
cried  she ;  "  it's  a'  the  wark  o'  my  gude-dochter 
— it  was  her  that  sent  him :  black  was  the  day 
she  e'er  came  to  stay  here ;  many  a  sore  heart  in 
the  watches  o'  the  night  hae  I  had  sin'  syne  for 
my  poor,  weak,  misled  lad ;  for  if  he  were  left  to 
the  freedom  o'  his  own  will,  he  wouldna  stand  on 
stepping-stanes,  but,  without  scrupulosity,  would 
send  me,  his  mother,  to  crack  sand,  or  mak  my 
leeving  where  I  could,  after  wastering  a'  my 
jointure." 

This  speech  made  a  strong  impression  on  the 
minds  of  all  the  lawyers  r)resent.  Mr  Keelevin 
treasured  it  up,  and  said  nothing.  Our  friend 
Gabriel  glanced  the  tail  of  his  eye  at  the  advo- 
cate, who,  without  affecting  to  have  noticed  the 
interested  motive  which  the  leddy  had  betrayed, 
said  to  Mr  Keelevin — 

"The  case,  sir,  cannot  but  go  before  a  jury; 
for,  although  the  J atuus  be  of  a  capacity  to  repeat 
any  injunction  M'liich  he  may  have  received,  and 
is  not  inconsistent  M'ith  a  high  degree  of  fatuity. 


be  no 


easy 


managing 
istance." 
ler's  assist- 
per.  ''  It's 
trings,  and 
is  mother's 

o  the  room 
jealoused/' 
ide-dochter 
as  the  day 
>re  heart  in 
n'  svne  for 
vere  left  to 
la  stand  on 
isity,  would 
^r  mak  my 
ing   a'    my 

lion  on  the 
r  Keelevin 
Our  friend 
the  advo- 
loticed  the 
■   betrayed^ 

re  a  jury; 
y  to  re})eat 
•eived^  and 
of  fatuity. 


THE  ENTAIL 


345 


it  does  not  therefore  follow  that  he  is  able  to 
originate  such  motions  or  volitions  of  the  mind 
as  are  requisite  to  constitute  what  may  be  deno- 
minated a  legal  modicum  of  understanding,  the 
possession  of  which  in  Mr  Walter  W  alkinshaw  is 
the  object  of  the  proposed  inquiry  to  determine." 

"Very  well,  gentlemen,  since  such  is  the  case/' 
replied  Mr  Keelevin,  rising,  "as  I  have  under- 
taken the  cause,  it  is  unnecessary  for  us  to  hold 
any  further  conversation  on  the  subject.  I  shall 
be  prepared  to  protect  my  client." 

With  these  words  he  left  the  room,  in  some 
hope  that  possibly  they  might  induce  (ieorge  still 
to  stay  proceedings.  But  the  cupidity  of  George's 
own  breast,  the  views  and  arguments  of  his 
counsel,  and  the  animosity  of  his  mother,  all 
co-operated  to  weaken  their  v^flact ;  so  that,  in  the 
course  of  as  short  a  time  as  the  forms  of  the  judi- 
cature permitted,  a  jury  was  empannelled  before 
the  sheriff,  according  to  the  tenor  of  the  special 
brief  of  Chancery  which  had  been  procured  for 
the  purpose,  and  evidence  as  to  the  state  of  poor 
Watty's  understanding  and  capacity  regularly 
examined  : — some  account  of  which  we  shall  pro- 
ceed to  lay  before  our  readers,  premising  that  Mr 
Threeper  opened  tiie  business  in  a  speech  replete 
with  eloquence  and  ingenuity,  and  all  that  meta- 
physical refinement  for  which  the  Scottish  Bar 
was  then,  as  at  present,  so  justly  celebrated. 
Nothing,  indeed,  could  be  more  subtile,  or  less 
applicable  to  the  coarse  and  daily  tear  and  wear 


346 


THE  ENTAIL 


of  human  concerns,  than  his  definition  of  what 
constituted  '^the  minimum  of  understanding,  or 
of  reason,  or  of  mental  faculty  in  general,  which 
the  law,  in  its  wisdom,  required  to  be  enjoyed 
by  every  individual  claiming  to  exercise  the  func- 
tions that  belong  to  man,  as  a  subject,  a  citizen, 
a  husband,  a  father,  a  master,  a  servant — in  one 
word,  to  enable  him  to  execute  those  different 
essential  duties  which  every  gentleman  of  the 
jury  so  well  knew,  and  so  laudably,  so  respectably, 
and  so  meritoriously  performed." 

But  we  regret  that  our  limits  do  not  allow  us 
to  enter  upon  the  subject ;  and  the  more  so  as  it 
could  not  fail  to  prove  highly  interesting  to  our 
fair  readers,  in  whose  opinion  the  eloquence  of 
the  Parliament  House  of  Edinburgh,  no  doubt, 
possesses  many  charming  touches  of  sentiment 
and  amiable  pathetic  graces. 


[on  of  what 
ptanding,  or 
leral,  which 
be  enjoyed 
3e  the  fune- 

|t,  a  citizen, 
mt — in  one 

|se  different 
lan   of  the 

respectably, 

ot  allow  us 
ore  so  as  it 
ting  to  our 
oquence  of 
no  doubt, 
sentiment 


CHAPTER    LV 

JL  HE  first  witness  examined  was  Jenny  Purdie, 
servant  to  Mr  George  Walkinshaw.  She  had  pre- 
viously been  several  y«ars  in  the  service  of  his 
father,  and  is  the  same  who,  as  our  readers 
will  perhaps  recollect,  contrived  so  femininely  to 
seduce  half-a-crown  from  the  pocket  of  the  old 
man  when  she  brought  him  the  news  of  the  birth 
of  his  son's  twin  daughters. 

^^What  is  your  opinion  of  Mr  Walter  Walkin- 
shaw ?  "  inquired  Mr  Threeper. 

"'Deed,  sir,"  said  Jenry,  "I  hae  but  a  sma' 
opinion  o'  him.  "  He's  a  daft  man,  ar  d  has  been 
sae  a'  his  days." 

"  But  what  do  you  mean  by  a  daft  man  ?  " 

"  I  thought  everybody  kent  w  hat  a  daft  man 
is,"  replied  Jenny.  "He's  just  silly,  and  tavert,^ 
and  heedless,  and  o'  an  inclination  to  swattle  in 
the  dire  like  a  grumphie." 

"Well,  but  do  you  mean  to  say,"  interrupted 
the  advocate,  "that,  to  your  knowledge,  he  has 
been  daft  all  his  days  ?  " 

"  I  never  kent  him  ony  better." 


1  Tavert.     Senseless. 
S47 


.348 


THE  ENTAIL 


tf 


But  you  have  not  known  him  all  his  days ; 
therefore,  how  can  you  say  he  has  been  daft  all 
his  days  ?  He  might  have  been  wise  enough 
when  you  did  not  know  him." 

"  I  dinna  think  it,"  said  Jenny;  ''  I  dinna  think 
it  was  ever  in  him  to  be  wise ;  he's  no  o'  a  nature 
to  be  wise." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  a  nature  .'*  Explain 
yourself." 

''I  canna  explain  mysel'  ony  better/'  was  the 
answer;  "only  I  ken  that  a  cat's  no  a  dog,  nor 
o'  a  nature  to  be — and  so  the  lairc  could  ne'er 
be  a  man  o'  sense." 

"Very  ingenious  indeed,"  said  Mr  Threeper ; 
"and  I  am  sure  the  gentlemen  of  the  jury  must 
be  satisfied  that  it  is  not  possible  to  give  a  clearer, 
a  more  distinctive,  impression  of  the  deficiency  of 
Mr  Walkinshaw's  capacity  than  has  been  given  by 
this  simple  and  innocent  country  girl.  But,  Jenny, 
can  you  tell  us  of  any  instance  of  his  daftness  ? " 

"I  can  tell  you  o'  naething  but  the  sic-like 
about  him." 

"Cannot  you  remember  anything  he  said  or 
did  on  any  particular  day  ?" 

"  Oh  ay  !  atweel  I  wat  I  can  do  that.  On  the 
vera  day  when  I  gaed  hame  frae  my  service  at  the 
Grippy  to  Mr  George's,  the  sheep  were  sheared, 
and  Mr  Watty  said  they  were  made  sae  naked 
it  was  a  shame  to  see  them,  and  took  one  o'  his 
mother's  flannen  polonies  to  niak  a  hap  lo  Mall 
I  oup-thr>Dike,  the  auld  ewe,  for  decency." 


THE  ENTAIL 


349 


all  his  days ; 
been  daft  all 
wise    enough 

dinna  think 
o  o'  a  nature 


't-> 


Expl 


ain 


er,"  was  the 

o  a  dog,  nor 

could  ne'er 

r  Threeper; 
le  jury  must 
ve  a  clearer, 
deficiency  of 
;en  given  by 
But,  Jenny, 
laftness?" 
the  sic-like 

he  said  or 

it.  On  the 
rvice  at  the 
re  sheared, 
sae  naked 
one  o'  his 
ip  to  Mall 
icy." 


Jenny  was  then  cross-questioned  by  Mr  Queerie, 
the  able  and  intelligent  advocate  employed  for  the 
defence  by  Mr  Keelevin ;  but  her  evidence  was 
none  shaken,  nor  did  it  appear  that  her  master 
had  in  any  way  influenced  her.  Before  she  left 
the  box  the  Sheriff  said  jocularly — 

"  I'm  sure,  from  your  account,  Jenny,  that  Mr 
Walkinshaw's  no  a  man  ye  would  like  to  marry  }  " 

"There's  no  saying,"  replied  Jenny.  "The 
Kittlestonheugh's  a  braw  estate ;  and  mony  a 
better  born  than  me  has  been  blithe  to  put  up 
wi'  houses  and  lan's,  though  wit  and  worth  were 
baith  wanting." 

The  first  witness  thus  came  off  with  considerable 
eclat,  and  indeed  gained  the  love  and  affections,  it 
is  said,  of  one  of  the  jurors,  an  old  bien  carle,  a 
bonnet-laird,  to  whom  she  was,  in  the  course  of  a 
short  time  after,  married. 

The  next  witness  was  Mr  Mordecai  Saxheere, 
preses  and  founder  of  that  renowned  focus  of 
sosherie  the  Yarn  Club,  which  held  its  periodical 
libations  of  the  vintage  of  the  Colonies  in  the 
buxom  Widow  Sheid's  tavern,  in  Sour-Milk  John's 
Land,  a  stately  pile  that  still  lifts  its  lofty  head  in 
the  Trongate.  He  was  an  elderly,  trim,  smooth, 
Quaker-faced  gentleman,  dressed  in  drab,  with 
spacious  buckram-lined  skirts  that  came  round 
on  his  knees,  giving  to  the  general  outline  of  his 
figure  the  appearance  of  a  cone  supported  on 
legs  in  white  worsted  hose.  He  wore  a  highly 
powdered    horsehair    wig,    with    a    long    queue, 


350 


THE  ENTAIL 


buckles  at  the  knees  and  in  his  shoes,  present- 
ing, in  the  collective  attributes  of  his  dress  and 
appearance,  a  respect-bespeaking  epitome  of  com- 
petency, good  eating,  honesty,  and  self-conceit. 
He  was  one  of  several  gentlemen  whom  the  long- 
forecasting  George  had  carried  with  him  to  Grippy 
on  those  occasions  when  he  was  desirous  to  pro- 
vide vdtnesses,  to  be  available  when  the  era  should 
arrive  that  had  now  come  to  pass. 

"Well,  Mr  Saxheere,"  said  the  Edinburgh  ad- 
vocate, "  what  ha>'e  you  to  say  with  respect  to 
the  state  of  Mr  Walter  Walkinshaw  ?  " 

"Sir,"  replied  the  preses  of  the  Yarn  Club, 
giving  that  sort  of  congratulatory  smack  with 
which  he  was  in  the  practice  of  swallowing  and 
sending  round  the  dram  that  crowned  the  sub- 
stantial, and  was  herald  to  what  were  called  the 
liquidities  of  the  club, — "  Sir,"  said  Mordecai  Sax- 
heere, "  I  have  been  in  no  terms  of  intromission 
with  Mr  Walkinshaw  of  Grippy,  'cept  and  except 
in  the  way  of  visitation  ;  and  on  those  occasions  I 
always  found  him  of  a  demeanour  more  sportive 
to  others  than  congenial." 

"  You  are  a  merchant,  I  believe,  Mr  Saxheere," 
said  Mr  Threeper;  "you  have  your  shop  in  the 
High  Street,  near  the  Cross.  On  the  market-day 
you  keep  a  bottle  of  whisky  and  a  glass  on  the 
counter,  from  which,  as  I  understand,  you  are  in 
the  practice  of  giving  your  customers  a  dram — 
first  preeing  or  smelling  the  liquor  yourself,  and 
then  handing  it  to  them.     Now,  I  would  ask  you. 


THE  ENTAIL 


351 


es,  present- 
is  dress  and 
jnie  of  corn- 
self'  conceit. 
nn  the  long- 
m  to  Grippy 
rous  to  pro- 
le era  should 

inburgh  ad- 
i  respect  to 

Yarn   Club, 
smack    with 
llowing  and 
ed  the  sub- 
B  called  the 
ordecai  Sax- 
intromission 
and  except 
occasions  I 
ore  sportive 

Saxheere/' 
ihop  in  the 
market-day 
:iass  on  the 
you  are  in 
i  a  dram — 
)urself,  and 
Id  ask  you. 


if  Mr  Walkinshaw  were  to  come  to  your  shop 
on  the  market-day,  would  you  deal  with  him  ? 
Would  you,  on  your  oath,  smell  the  glass,  and 
then  ha:  '^  it  across  the  counter,  to  be  by  him 
drunk  off? 

The  advocate  intended  this  as  a  display  of 
his  intimate  knowledge  of  the  local  habits  and 
usages  of  Glasgow,  though  himself  but  an  Edin- 
burgh man,  in  order  to  amaze  the  natives  by  his 
cleverness. 

"Sir,"  replied  Mr  Saxheere,  again  repeating  his 
habitual  congratulatory  smack,  "  much  would  rely 
on  the  purpose  for  which  he  came  to  custom.  If 
he  offered  me  yarn  for  sale,  there  could  be  no 
opponency  on  my  side  to  give  him  the  fair  price 
of  the  day ;  but  if  he  wanted  to  buy,  I  m.ight 
undergo  some  constipation  of  thought  before 
compliance." 

"  The  doubtful  credit  of  any  wiser  person  might 
produce  the  same  astringency,"  said  the  advocate 

slyly. 

"  No  doubt  it  would,"  replied  the  preses  of  the 
Yarn  Club ;  "  but  the  predicament  of  the  laird 
of  Grippy  wouldna  be  under  that  denominator, 
but  because  I  would  have  a  suspection  of  him  in 
the  way  of  judgment  and  sensibility." 

"Then  he  is  not  a  man  that  you  would  think 
it  safe  to  trade  with  ar  a  customer  ? "  said  the 
Sheriff,  desirous  of  putting  an  end  to  his  prosing. 

"Just  so,  sir,"  replied  Mordecai;  "for,  though  it 
might  be  ^\afe  in  the  way  of  advantage,  I  could  not 


352 


THE  ENTAIL 


think  myself,  in  tlie  way  of  character,  free  from  an 
imputation  were  i  to  intromit  with  him." 

It  was  not  deemed  expedient  to  cross-question 
this  witness  ;  and  anotlier  was  called,  a  celebrated 
professor  of  mathematics  in  the  University,  the 
founder  and  preses  of  a  club  called  the  ''  Anderson 
Summer  Saturday's."  The  scientific  attainments 
and  abstract  genius  of  this  distinguished  person 
were  undisputed  ;  but  his  simplicity  of  character 
and  absence  of  mind  were  no  less  remarkable. 
The  object  that  George  probably  had  in  view  in 
taking  him,  as  an  occasional  visitor,  to  see  his 
brother  was,  perhaps,  to  qualify  the  professor  to 
bear  testimony  to  the  arithmetical  incapacity  of 
Walter.  And  certainly  the  professor  had  always 
found  him  sufficiently  incapable  to  have  warranted 
him  to  give  the  most  decisive  evidence  on  that 
head ;  but  a  circumstance  had  occurred  at  the  last 
visit,  which  came  out  in  the  course  of  the  investi- 
gation, by  which,  it  would  appear,  the  opinion  of 
the  learned  mathematician  was  greatly  shaken. 

"  I  am  informed,  professor,  that  you  are  ac- 
quainted with  Mr  Walter  Walkinshaw.  Will  you 
liave  the  goodness  to  tell  the  Court  what  is  your 
opinion  of  that  gentleman  }  "  said  the  advocate. 

"  My  opinion  is  that  he  is  a  very  extraordinary 
man  ;  for  he  put  a  question  to  me  when  I  last  saw 
liim  which  I  have  not  yet  been  able  to  answer." 

The  advocate  thought  the  professor  said  this  in 
irony,  and  inquired,  with  a  simper, — 

"  And  pray,  what  might  that  question  be  }  " 


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353 


••  1  was 'trying  if  he  could  calculate  the  alicjuot 
parts  of  a  j)ouiul ;  and  lie  said  to  me,  C'ould  I 
tell  him  the  rccason  that  there  were  but  four- 
and-twenty  bawbees  in  a  shilling  ?  " 

"  You  may  retire,"  said  the  advocate,  discon- 
certed ;  and  the  professor  innuediately  withdrew ; 
for  still  the  counsel  in  behalf  of  Walter  declined 
to  cross-question. 

''  The  next  witness  that  I  shall  produce," 
resumed  Mr  Threeper,  '^is  one  whom  I  call  with 
extreme  reluctance.  Every  man  nuist  sympa- 
thise with  the  feelings  of  a  mother  on  such 
an  occasion  as  this,  and  will  easily  comj)rehend 
that,  in  the  questions  which  my  duty  obliges 
me  to  put  to  Mrs  Walkinshaw,  I  am,  as  it 
were,  obliged,  out  of  that  sacred  respect  which 
is  due  to  her  maternal  sensibility,  to  address 
myself  in  more  general  terms  tlian  I  should  other- 
wise do." 

The  leddy  was  then  called  ;  and  the  advocate, 
with  a  solemn  voice  and  pauses  of  lengthened 
sadness  and  commiseration,  said — 

"  Madam,  the  Court  and  the  jury  do  not  expect 
you  to  enter  into  any  particular  description  of  the 
state  of  your  unfortunate  son.  They  only  desire 
to  know  if  you  think  he  is  capable  of  conducting 
his  affairs  like  other  men." 

"  Him  capable  ! "  exclaimed  the  leddy.  '^  He's 
no  o'  a  capacity  to  be  advised." 

She  would  have  proceeded  further;  but  Mr 
Threeper  interposed,  saying,  "  Madam,  we  shall 

VOL.  I.  z 


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not  distress  you  further;  the  Court  and  the  Jury 
nui.>t  be  satisfied." 

Not  so  was  Mr  Keelevin,  who  nodded  to  Mr 
Qiieerie,  the  counsel  for  Walter ;  and  he  innne- 
d  lately  rose. 

''I  wish/'  said  he,  "just  to  put  one  question  to 
the  witness.  How  lon<^  is  it  since  your  son  has 
been  so  incapable  of  acting  for  himself.''" 

"  I  canna  gie  you  day  nor  date/'  replied  the 
leddy ;  "  but  he  has  been  in  a  state  of  condu- 
macity  ever  since  his  dochter  died." 

"Indeed!"  said  Mr  Queerie ;  "then  he  was 
not  always  incapable  }  " 

"Oh  no!"  cried  the  leddy;  "he  was  a  most 
tractable  creature,  and  the  kindliest  son/*  she 
added,  with  a  sigh ;  "  but  since  that  time  he's 
been  neither  to  bind  nor  to  hand,  threatening 
to  send  me,  his  mother,  a-garsing  ^ — ^rring  me 
lay  out  my  own  lawful  jointure  on  the  house,  and 
using  me  in  the  most  horridable  manner — waster- 
ing  his  income  in  the  most  thoughtless  way." 

Mr  Threeper  began  to  whisper  to  our  friend 
Gabriel,  and  occasionally  to  look,  with  an  afflicted 
glance,  towards  the  leddy. 

Mr  Queerie  resumed — 

"  Your  situation,  I  perceive,  has  been  for  some 
time  very  unhappy ;  but,  I  suppose,  were  Mr 
Walkinshaw  to  make  you  a  reasonable  compen- 
sation for  the  trouble  you  take  in  managing  his 

1  Garbing.     To  turn  out,  as  a  horse  to  grass  when  of  no 
more  use  ;  to  turn  out  of  office. 


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:i55 


tliejury 

I  to  Mr 
e  inime- 

Jstion  to 
son  has 

ic'd  the 
condu- 

he  Wcas 

a  most 
n,"  she 
nie  he's 
;atening 
ring  me 
jse,  and 
waster- 

y- 

'  friend 
ifflicted 


r  some 
re  Mr 
»mpen- 
ng  his 

n  of  no 


house,  you  would  have  no  objections  still  to  con- 
tinue with  him  ?  " 

''Oh  !  to  be  surely,"  said  the  leddy ;  "only  it 
would  need  to  be  something  worth  while  ;  and 
my  gude-dochter  and  her  family  would  recjuire 
to  be  obligated  to  gang  hame." 

"  Certainly  what  you  say,  madam,"  is  very 
reasonable,"  rejoined  Mr  Queerie  ;  ''and  I  have 
no  doubt  that  the  Court  perceives  that  a  gn^at 
part  of  your  distress,  from  the  idiotry  of  your  son, 
arises  from  his  having  brought  in  ihc  lady  alluded 
to  and  her  family." 

"It  has  come  a'  frae  that,"  replied  the  witness, 
unconscious  of  the  force  of  what  she  was  saying ; 
"  for,  'cepting  his  unnaturality  to  me  about  them, 
his  idiocety  is  very  harmless." 

"  Perhaps  not  worse  than  formerly  }  " 

A  look  from  George  at  this  crisis  put  her  on 
her  guard ;  and  she  instantly  replied,  as  if  eager 
to  redeem  the  effects  of  what  she  had  just  said, — 

"  'Deed,  sir,  it's  no  right  to  let  him  continue  in 
the  rule  and  power  o*  the  property,  for  nobody 
can  tell  what  he  may  commit." 

At  this  juncture  Mr  Queerie,  perceiving  her 
wariness,  sat  down ;  and  the  Reverend  Dr  Den- 
holm,  being  called  by  Mr  Threeper,  stated  in 
answer  to  the  usual  question — 

"  I  acknowledge  that  I  do  not  think  Mr 
Walkinshaw  entirely  of  a  sound  mind  •  but  he 
has  glaiks  ^  and  gleams  o'  sense  about  him  that 

1  Glaiks.    Rays. 


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mak  me  very  dootful  if  I  could  judicially  swear 
that  he  canna  deport  himself  wi'  sufficient 
sagacity." 

"But,"  said  the  advocate,  "did  not  you  your- 
self advise  Mr  George  Walkinshaw  to  institute 
these  proceedings?'* 

"I'll  no  disown  that,"  replied  the  doctor;  "but 
Mr  Walter  has  since  then  done  such  a  humane 
and  a  Christian  duty  to  his  brother's  widow  and 
her  two  defenceless  and  portionless  bairns  that  I 
canna,  in  my  conscience,  think  now  so  lightly  of 
him  as  I  once  did." 

Here  the  jury  consulted  together;  and,  after 
a  short  conference,  the  foreman  inquired  if  Mr 
Walkinshaw  was  in  court.  On  being  answered 
in  the  negative,  the  Sheriff  suggested  an  adjourn- 
ment till  next  day,  that  he  might  be  brought 
forward. 


KNU    OF    VOL.    I. 


ally  swear 
sufficient 

you  your- 
institute 

tor;  ''but 
I  humane 
idow  and 
•ns  that  I 
lightly  of 

md,  after 

ed  if  Mr 

answered 

adjourn- 

brought 


